


Volitant

by Labyrinthine_Elysium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angel Wings, Angel!Castiel, Captivity, Creature Castiel, Creature Fic, Fluff, Hand Feeding, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Castiel, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, cheek rubbing, kind of not really, zookeeper!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Labyrinthine_Elysium/pseuds/Labyrinthine_Elysium
Summary: Dean, along with several others, is being interviewed for the opportunity to work with a surprisingly docile angel.But everyone knows that angels are dangerous.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Volitant: having the power of flight

Dean wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve being here. There were angels not twenty feet away from him. Granted it was behind glass; one-way so he, and the other visitors, could see in, but the angels inside the enclose couldn’t see out. It made them feel safe, the woman giving the tour had said.

_Safe. Right. ___

Everyone knew angels were dangerous. All of the angels in the enclosure were required to wear shock collars. They got violent easily. They even had to be fed separately, in rooms around the corner from the community viewing area the group was currently in. 

Granted, the angels seemed to be quite tame. Lying on rocks sunning themselves. Chirping as they swooped and glided. Some of them sat with another angel, musing through the other's hair. They seemed, at least for now, to be at peace.

There were trees on the far side of the enclosure. Thick, dense foliage. That was where the nests were. Where they slept. Some angels didn’t like being out in the open. Preferring to stay in or near the trees. There were a few cameras that had been installed to monitor the angels, but the human smell on them made it easy for the angels to know it didn’t belong. 

Some of these expensive pieces of machinery had been smashed and thrown with malice at the keeper’s entrance to the enclosure. Others had simply been returned; carefully being set down by the dented door, as if it was a dish that a neighbor had forgotten at a friend’s house after being invited over for a potluck dinner. 

Needless to say, the angels liked their privacy.

“Now if you come this way, it’s time to feed the next group.” The woman with bouncy hair led the small group around a bend and through a doorway clearly marked _Authorized Personnel Only _and a security guard manually scanning and verifying their identities on their access cards.__

They filed into the room. An open space to the right, obviously for the humans. There was a long padded bench lining the back of the room. Assumedly for observation purposes.

To the left however, was a thick glass wall. Beyond that wall was a smaller room, a few chairs, pillows, blankets, and a wide file cabinet looking table. Beyond that room, was five chambers, with only the far chamber on the right having an exit into the larger glass-enclosed room. 

Each of the chambers were behind thick glass, which apparently is a theme of the architecture of the place. In each of the chambers was a bowl filled with fresh meat immersed in blood. 

“Now, the angels would prefer to kill their own prey, but we’re hoping that by removing that opportunity the angels will become more docile.” The woman giving the tour stood straight, clipboard in hand held tight, glancing down at it every once in a while to guarantee that every bullet point was covered.

“And how has that been working out?” A man in the back of the group asked, snarkly, but not without merit.

The woman’s mouth pulled into a terse smile. “With mixed results.” The answer wasn’t vague to anyone. It wasn’t going well.

When rattling from the door came, everyone turned to see a man in a white lab coat come through to door. He looked a little embarrassed to be at the attention of the small group of people in the room.

“Hello.” He said with a shy little wave, an odd looking gesture for a man of his tall stature. “I’m Dr. Garner.” He made his way to the front of the group. “I’m in charge of feeding the angels and tracking their behavior and eating habits. Mrs. Webster,” He said, addressing the bouncy haired woman. “I apologize for my interruption. Do go on.”

“Thank you, Dr. Garner.” The woman, Mrs. Webster replied. “We were just to see the next group of angels get called in to eat.”

“Ah! Perfect timing then.” The tall man turned to a station on the wall. It contained four screens above an intercom system riddled with buttons and switches. He flicked up a switch on the far left side of the board, then pushed a button marked with the number four. 

The doors on each of the five chambers opened into the enclosure and a faint, long _beep beep beep beep _could be heard. From the first beep, the angels seen in the screens above the intercom perked up their heads, listening. When the beeps finished, many of the angels put their heads back down and continued on like nothing had happened.__

However, four angels came to each of the first four chambers, the glass sliding back into place as soon as they were entered. Each of the angels attacked their bowls of flesh, the blood covered their faces and dripped down their throats.

But the fifth chamber remained empty. Door still open, the bowl of blood apparently unenticing to the angel that was supposed to be there.

“ _Ugh _!” Dr. Garner through his head back and sighed quietly. He used a roller mouse and manually moved one of the cameras until he found what, or who, he was looking for.__

“There you are.” He mumbled to himself, when the camera landed on a slight, black-haired angel apparently following a bumble bee in a part of the enclosure that was filled with bushes blossoming with flowers.

The man flicked on a switch, then pushed the intercom button and spoke into the microphone in an exasperated tone. 

“ _Castiel _.”__

The angel perked his left ear up higher, but made no motion to stop following the bee.

“Castiel,” Dr. Garner repeated “It’s time to eat.”

The small angel paused. After a moment he turned, keeping his eye on the bee, before sighing and walking towards the fifth chamber. Oddly, he avoided any other angels along the way, going out of his way to avoid them.

Castiel slowed as he approached the fifth chamber, coming up next the wall, the opposite side from the fourth chamber. Flattening himself out on the wall, he sniffed. Shuffled a bit closer. _Sniff _. Peaking around the corner into the chamber he looked anxiously around it and drew several long breaths, scenting the air inside thoroughly.__

Apparently satisfied, he came into the enclosure quickly and pressed himself against the wall, barley inside enough for the glass to slide shut without nicking him. As soon as the door slide shut, the angel visibly relaxed and turned toward his bowl. He sniffed softly at it before cooing and picking up the bowl, which could now be seen was very shallow.

_Odd. _Dean thought. _His bowl is… smaller than the other angels. _____

Dean noticed the size difference between the physicality of the other four angels and this angel. They were much larger than the black-haired angel. Also… Dean felt something in him rise up, a nervous butterfly in his stomach, a tightness in his chest. Dean watched the small angel drink the blood from his dish raised up like a child drinking soup. His throat bared and gulping, his small adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

“Umm…” Dean raised his voice for the first time, wavering slightly. “Why doesn’t he have a collar?”

The rest of the group began murmuring. He was right, the small angel didn’t have a collar. The group turned to Dr. Garner for an answer.

“Who? Castiel? Oh, he’s harmless.” 

Looks of disbelief, shock, and discomfort flooded the room.

_B-but you couldn’t just trust an angel. They- ___

Castiel had finished his small bowl of blood, licking his lips, he set down the bowl where he had found it. His tongue, stained from the blood, licked down and across his bottom lip.

He then looked up toward the door that entered into the glass room. This chamber, the fifth chamber, was the only chamber to have a door that led to the glass room. The small angel strode towards the door and gave a small chirp, looking expectant.

“You’ll see.” Dr. Garner stated.

Dean was stricken. _They couldn’t be serious. ___

When Dr. Garner gave a look towards Mrs. Webster, she stepped up to the station Dr. Garner previously occupied. She flipped a few switches and the door into the glass room opened. Dr. Garner stepped inside and nodded back, giving the cue for Mrs. Webster to shut the door.

“Can you hear me?” Dr. Garner’s voice came through speakers above the intercom station, as well as several other speakers spotted throughout the room. 

“Loud and clear.” Mrs. Webster replied into the microphone. 

Castiel chirped again, a little louder.

“Okay. Let him in.”

_What? They’re just going to- ___

A switch flipped and the door was opened.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel stuck his head out of the opening into the glass room. _Sniff. Sniff._

Dean held his breath. _Honestly._ Dean thought. _This guy is trying to get himself killed._

The small black-haired angel caught Dr. Garner’s eye and gave a small smile. He stepped out of the chamber and bee-lined for the tall man.

“Hello, Castiel.” Dr. Garner greeted the angel.

“ _Chirp!_ ” Castiel replied. 

_Sniff. Sniff._

The angel circled around the back of the doctor, before nosing at one of his pockets in the white lab coat he wore.

“Can never get anything past you, can I?” The man chuckled softly as he reached into his pocket.

“ _Chirp!_ ”

The man softly tussled the cherub’s hair as he revealed a sandwich bag full of freshly washed green grapes.

The cherub leaned into the touch. Butting his head against the doctor’s hand, rubbing it in further.

The doctor took a seat in a chair in the room, opened the bag and pulled out a few in his hand.

Castiel gracefully knelt down next to him and softly placed both of his hands on the doctors. The cherub’s right fingertips rested gently on the doctor’s fingertips. His left hand curled elegantly around the top of the doctor’s wrist, not holding the doctor’s hand in place, but as if centering himself by it.

The little one’s eye’s slid shut as he gave the grapes another sniff. Then a tentative lick. Then sighing in pleasure before taking a grape into his mouth and chewing slowly.

“I thought angels were carnivores.” One man in the group piped up.

“Most are. All except Castiel here, that we can tell. He doesn’t really like meat. He’ll still eat it sometimes, though.” Castiel’s eyes lazily opened to glance at the doctor, then closed his eyes again.

“But he just drank the bowl of blood.” One of the other females in the group shivered.

“Blood? Oh, no. That was pomegranate juice, one Castiel’s favorites. Isn’t it?” He addressed the angel.

“ _Mmm._ ” Was the only reply, obviously the small, sweet angel was more interested in the grapes than the conversation, as he took another bite.

“We’re not quite sure why he’s so docile. He might be younger than the other angels or simply on the more friendly side of the spectrum. It might have something to do with his eating habits. We’ve been unsuccessful thus far in getting any other angels to eat fruit, though.” Dr. Garner mused.

“Are any of you ready to meet him?” Dr. Garner asked.

“You promise he’s harmless?” A man asked tentatively.

“Well, there are some rules.” The doctor started, speaking evenly. “You have to move slowly. No sudden movements, you’ll just scare him. He’ll want to smell you. You can offer your hand, slowly. Or greeting him will invite him to smell you.”

“You’ll want to be careful, however.” The doctor continued. “He may reject you just based on that. In which, you’ll have to leave the room immediately. Rejection can be difficult to see up close, so you’ll be notified if that happens.”

“Now if you’re not rejected, the next step is an invitation to touch. Castiel and I have an established relationship in which if I touch him, he is allowed to initiate touch back. However, for him, you are all new. So, to make him feel the most comfortable, he will initiate touch, if he chooses, upon the command: ‘Okay, Castiel.’”

The cherub looked up at the doctor and tilted his head. His left hand began to rub the doctor’s write lightly.

“I know.” The doctor chuckled playfully and rubbed Castiel’s head, with his non-grape occupied hand. Castiel seemed to accept this and closed his eyes contently, still lightly rubbing the doctor’s wrist.

“He’s never shown any sign of being violent. That is why we are confident enough to trust him. But he does still get scared and being scared can be just as dangerous as being violent. Just go slow. Anyone want to go first?”

One of the two women in the group tentatively step forward. “I’d like to.”

“All right. Very nice. Give me one moment.” Dr. Garner turned his attention to the angel. “Castiel.”

The angel’s head perked up at his name.

“There are a few people you’re going to meet today. Is that alright?”

The cherub looked at him with big eyes. Then down in what seemed to Dean to be a reluctant consideration. A weak, unenthusiastic _chirp_ was given in what seemed like disinclined consent. 

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

The woman took her position at the door then nodded to Mrs. Webster.

The door opened.

The woman slowly stepped inside. The angel immediately made eye contact with her, tilted his head, squinted his eyes. His nose rose in disgust, as if he smelt something bad. A light sniff to the air and he _hissed._

Mrs. Webster quickly drew the woman out of the room and closed the door.

“I’m not surprised.” Mrs. Webster stated. “He’s never liked women. Next?”

A young, Asian man stepped up, looking a little more than nervous.

The door opened. He stepped through. And it closed behind him.

Castiel looked a little more interested this time. He rose and stood his ground.

The young man’s fingers ran over his sweaty palms as he greeted, “Hey, Castiel.”

The cherub moved slowly toward him, stopping about four feet away. The young man raised a hand, slowly, as instructed. The angel sniffed him and seemed satisfied.

“Go ahead.” Dr. Garner prompted.

The young man drew a deep breath and said, “Okay, Castiel.”

The small angel lifted his lips to the young man’s hand and _licked_ them. Then he cooed and ducked his hand under the young man’s palm to rub his head up into it.

 

* * *

  

The rest of the meetings went similarly. The other woman was completely rejected and hissed at, same as the first who tried. The men had mixed reactions from being sniffed at thoroughly before simply being walked away from. 

Others the cherub would find one side of their clothing particularly interesting and sniff that entire side of them, ducking out from outreaching hands and simply looking at them in confusion. 

Only two thus far had actually touched the angel, each time it was short and sweet. As if the angel gave his approval and then ignored them entirely. Those interactions were still considered successes.

Now, it was Dean’s turn, rounding in at dead last. Still cautious from the plethora of information clearly stating that this angel was an impossibility. Angels weren’t like this, they were dangerous. Yet all those who had gone before him were fine. 

“Ready soldier?” Mrs. Webster playfully asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Dean replied. His hopes that nervousness hadn’t shown were drowned.

Dean took his place at the door, shifting his weight from side to side. Palms sweating. _Maybe I shouldn’t have worn so many layers._

The door opened with the quiet compression of air.

The angel was already at attention, standing on the other side of the room, only half-facing him.

Dean stepped into the room and the door shut. _No going back now._

The angel stared at him. Just bore into him. They both stood perfectly still.

The cherub drew a single breath and suddenly was rushing towards him. Dean took a step back and hit the door behind him. The angel drew long steps and stopped just inches away from Dean with a wave a wind created by the abrupt stop. Eyes bored into Dean’s with a pleading look and with no immediate response from Dean, the angel let out a pitiful _whine_.

It was only now that Dean realized that the angel wasn’t as short as he had previously thought. No, the angel was only a few inches shorter. However, the larger than expect stature of the creature just made the experience that much more intimidating. 

_What was I supposed to do again?_ It was hard to think when an unrestrainable creature was just an inch from his face. And it was still _whining_. 

“O-okay-“

The angel barely let Dean finish the word when he _buried_ his head into the side of Dean’s neck. Castiel drew long breaths as he nuzzled into Dean. With nowhere for Dean to go, the angel pressed himself against Dean leaning the weight back against the door. 

“ _Castiel._ ” The strong voice of Dr. Garner came from the side.

Castiel whined again, rubbing the side of his face against clavicle.

“Castiel. Stop.” 

Castiel whined in return. He sounded like he was about to start crying.

“Castiel. You want him to stay, right? He’ll stay if you come here.”

Castiel drew a shaky breath, it seemed to Dean that the angel pressed in _further_ to take one last breath of his neck, before pulling away and sulking back to Dr. Garner.

With Castiel no longer pressing Dean against the glass door, the man sunk back against it and down to the floor.

The angel turned at the noise and shrieked when he saw Dean on the floor. 

Dean flinched at the noise. Castiel flinched at Dean’s reaction, the angel curled into himself and turned to the corner next to where Dr. Garner had been sitting. The corner was stacked with blankets and pillows, the former of which was snatched up as the angel curled himself up in it, plopping himself down on the padded ground with a pitiful, remorseful look as the angel stared longingly across the room where Dean sat.

“Are you all right?” Dr. Garner carefully inquired.

Chest heaving Dean replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. That happen often?” Inquiring about the angel behavior.

“Never before that I’ve seen.” The doctor apologized. “Are you hurt?”

The angel across the room, buried himself further into his blanket and sobbed.

“No.” Dean said. “No. I’m fine.” He gave the angel a smile to prove his words.

The angel eye’s gained a trickle of hope and gave a small smile back.

“Are you sure? I understand if you want out-“

The doctor was cut off by a quiet, panicked shriek from Castiel.

The doctor looked over his shoulder in concern before continuing, “He’s never reacted like this to anyone. But I think it’s a good sign. I think he really likes you.” Castiel chirped. “Are you alright to continue on today?”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was way more than he had signed up for, but he could do this. For science.

“Yeah. Just give me a ‘sec.” Dean stated, eyes still shut.

“Fair enough.” 

The doctor turned back and walked to Castiel, whispering quietly with the angel as the angel chirped and sobbed in remorse. 

“It’s alright, Castiel.” Dean overheard the doctor saying. “You didn’t hurt him. You just scared him. He’s all right, he’s just scared.”

The cherub looked tiny curled up in the blankets.

“I’m good.” Dean said, huffing himself to a stand after a quick minute to calm himself down. “I’m ready.”

“Fantastic.” The doctor replied. “Would you like to feed him?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my golly goodness that took forever! I thought this chapter wouldn't take so long, but it kept growing.
> 
> More fluff, probably too much plot. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_I can feed him._ Dean repeated to himself. _He won’t bite my hand off. He won’t bite my hand off._

Dean took another calming breath. “Y-yea-.” His throat went dry in the middle of the word, and broke into a single raspy cough. He licked his lips and tried again. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Castiel peeked out of his cocoon of blankets. Eyes wide in hope.

Dr. Garner smiled at Dean and offered him a seat, where he had previously been feeding Castiel. Dean sat down and watched as Dr. Garner rifled around one of the drawers in the file-cabinet looking table, revealing a slide out ice chest.

“We used to just feed him in the feeding chamber,” Dr. Garner started, “But then we realized how much he enjoyed human interaction. It’s funny, really. He’s more of a, not a pet really, but a companion animal personality type.”

“How did you find out? I mean, that he wasn’t, you know, gunna hurt anybody?” Dean felt awkward asking the question, more so with Castiel sitting not four feet away from him, but it was a fair point. Who would go out of their way to check that the angel was as harmless as he seemed to be?

Dr. Garner glanced at the non-transparent wall. Dean followed his gaze, but, of course, couldn’t see anything.

“Mrs. Webster?” 

“Yes, Dr. Garner?” Came the tinny reply.

“Please escort the remaining candidates through the remainder of the tour.”

“Yes, Dr. Garner.”

“Thank you.”

There was faint shuffling heard, barely. The kind you could only hear if you were listening for it. Or imagining it.

Dr. Garner turn down to the bowl he was holding. He had mixed something up and it looked to be the consistency of oatmeal, goopy and chunky.

“Here.” Dr. Garner passed the bowl of goop to Dean.

When Dean hesitated, Dr. Garner prompted, “Call him over.”

Dean turned to Castiel, the angel aloof in his posturing, head facing away from Dean. But the angel’s eyes were glued to Dean. Flickering up and down the stranger’s frame, from the bowl to Dean’s face, every once in a while ticking over to the doctor.

“Hey, Castiel. Do you want to come here to try some of this, um, stuff?”

The angel sprang up and out, halfway to Dean in one motion.

Dean flinched. Hard.

Castiel froze. Eyes wide. Chest quickly and silently inflating and deflating in little, rabbit breaths.

The angel’s eyebrows knit together in what could only be described as a self-criticizing expression.

Dean’s mind only took a moment to process that this angel, this beautiful, wide-eyed angel, wanted to be near him badly enough to forget the manners necessary to get what the creature wanted. Like a puppy too excited to receive a treat to be able to lay down for more than a moment before popping up again.

Dean could do this. He knew he could. Just like a puppy. 

“It’s okay, Castiel. You just scared me.” Dean coaxed.

It sort of worked. The angel was creeping closer, but looked like a scolded child. Shoulders hunched, as Castiel looked up through his eye lashes at Dean.

When the cherub was close enough, Dean slowly extended the bowl. Castiel’s eyes watered as they flickered between Dean and the bowl. The cherub looked like someone just rejected him in the worst possible way.

“What’s your name, son?”

Dean’s eyes flicked over to Dr. Garner, not wavering his hand. “Dean. Winchester.”

“’Kay, Winchester. Like this.” The doctor pantomimed holding the bowl and dipping the first and second fingers of the other hand into the bowl.

Dean dipped his first two fingers of his right hand into the bowl, curling the other two fingers to his palm and leaving his thumb out to the side. Scooping up a glob of the mixture and making sure it wouldn’t drip onto the floor, he slowly outstretched his hand for the angel’s approval.

Castiel looked between the out stretched hand and Dean, trying to see if Dean was sincere in his offering.

Dean noticed the question that Castiel was silently asking: _Sincerely? Honestly? May I have this? Am I going to scare you again?_

“It’s okay, Castiel. I’m okay.” Dean reassured. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. It’s okay, Castiel. It’s okay.”

The angel crept closer, until he was an inch away from Dean’s outstretched hand and gave the mixture a small sniff. Then tentatively reached his tongue out to lick the mixture, the angel’s movements cautiously slow, as if looking for any indication from Dean to stop.

When Dean gave no sign, Castiel licked the mixture again, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean.

“Good boy.” It took Dean a moment to realize that that was probably not the right thing to say, or whisper as it were, but the way Castiel preened under the praise, how he relaxed and beamed at Dean, made the man think the phrasing would slide this time.

Dean wiggled his fingers to catch the angel’s attention again and was rewarded by Castiel taking a bite of the substance, making no contact with Dean’s fingers. 

The man could only smile, looking at the sweet creature. Trying so hard to do the right thing.

The angel reached up with his right hand, slowly, diligent with care to make the movement obvious, to hold onto Dean’s curled third and fourth fingers. 

_They’re so soft._ Dean thought, as the angel’s fingers gripped onto Dean’s not unlike a baby grasping a finger.

When Castiel ascertained that Dean was not put off by motion, he raised his left hand to hold Dean’s outstretched thumb. The pads of the angel’s four fingers pressing gently into the meat of Dean’s hand, thumb wrapped around Dean’s.

It was as if he was anchoring himself. On Dean. Around Dean. That was the sole focus of the angel’s world. Dean.

Slowly, Castiel took Dean’s fingers into his mouth. Dean watched the angel, not sure if this was a norm for the creature, but it seemed like a procedure the angel had gone through many times, simply slower for Dean’s sake. That was what Dean could surmise from the doctors lack of interference.

Castiel mouth was warm, not that it was really touching Dean. The angel was slowly pulling back the mush a bit at a time until there really wasn’t anything left.

When Dean pulled his hand back to scoop up more of the mixture, the angel reluctantly let go and surreptitiously scooted closer. 

It came as a surprise to Dean, that when he reached out his hand, the angel just opened his mouth. Tentatively, the man reached out his hand, he swore he heard a soft _Ahh_ just before the angel playfully took his fingers into his mouth and sucked them gently.

The angel took his time quietly drawing the concoction, before reaching up to turn Dean’s wrist so the pads of his fingers were down against the angel’s tongue. 

It _tickled_.

Dean could barely keep a straight face as the angel licked against the pads of his fingers. In between the fingers the most sensitive, right in the ticklish webbing at the base of his index and middle fingers. When Castiel’s tongue dipped in there, Dean couldn’t help but let out a chortle and squirmed.

The angel’s startled uncertainty was immediately recognizable, but when he saw the grin on Dean’s face, he continued until Dean pulled away.

Dean considered wiping the saliva off on his jeans, but figured they would just get wet again. So, he just scooped up a bit more of the mixture, now more than half gone, and presented it to Castiel.

With the hand now back in proximity, Castiel latched onto it and sucked the substance off his fingers with enthusiasm.

Now, Dean was a strong man. He lifted weights every once and a while. However, Dean was not a runner. He did not do yoga or Pilates or any other kind of torture. He was not a man made for endurance. So after holding his arm out for three minutes, he was sore and his arm was slowly contracting inward, causing the angel to follow the fingers until he was practically, and then literally, leaning against Dean’s leg.

“The reason-“

Dean nearly jumped from the doctor’s sudden words.

“why we know that he doesn’t need a collar, or is better off, happier without it, really, is because he got sick.” Dr. Garner said solemnly. 

“Oh?” Dean prompted.

“He was transferred here from another sanctuary.” Dr. Garner continued. “He’s been bounced around a bit. Angels have conflicting personalities, but they are social creatures. They need interaction. But none of the angels in any of the programs he’s been in have paid any attention to him.

“For all intents and purposes, he was depressed. He was losing weight. Sleeping all day. Angels are diurnal, but this one here would stay up all night. Personally, I think it’s because the other angels would leave him alone at night. 

Another program lets the angels catch their own prey. So, they kept the habitat stocked with prey and food for the prey. That’s how we, or they, really, found out that Castiel ate fruit. He would go and sit with the rabbits and eat berries off of bushes. They sent us pictures, it was really cute…”

Dr. Garner trailed off as Dean gave him a look.

“Anyway. The collar was removed for a short period of time when Castiel was put into an induced coma. The plan was to tube feed him for about a week or so, until his weight came back up. But he woke up a day or so into it. He was oddly calm. Any angel I’ve ever seen, heck, even humans, they wake up with a tube down their throat and they tear the blasted thing out. But this one-“

Dean had been so enraptured by the doctor’s story that he had forgotten about Castiel, who’s head was currently lying on his lap as the angel idly sucked on Dean’s fingers, eye’s half-lidded. He gave the cherubs head a pet and settled his hand on the angel’s head.

Castiel was gazing up at him, mesmerized with Dean’s eyes, never taking his own eyes off of them for too long. The angel looked kind of drugged. Staring at Dean through lidded eyes, like he had hung the moon. 

“This one just laid there. There was a security camera feed, we wound back the tape and he had just laid there. For hours. Calmly. Of course, we didn’t know this until we checked days after the fact, when we were trying to interpret his behavior and determine what went wrong with his anesthesia. So, he was there until the nurse walked in and he just pointed at the tube. She freaked out, of course. Came back and a bunch of security came and slapped a collar on him.

“He didn’t fight them, per se. But he was distraught. Made the most terrible noises. They thought it was interfering with his breathing or hurting him, so they took it off, but there wasn’t any damage. They strapped him down to do so, by the way. He didn’t complain about that. But every time the collar was on, he was heartbroken.” The doctor sighed. “He’s just a can a worms.”

A mousey voice over the speakers came on, “Everything still going on alright in there, doctor?”

“Yes! I need to come out actually, would you mind opening the door?”

“Standing by.”

The doctor swiftly stood and took a place by the door to wait for it to open. 

Dean stood up as well, thinking that he should come with. Castiel mewed in displeasure and grabbed onto the man’s shirt to keep him from moving further.

Upon noticing Dean standing, the doctor motioned for him to stop.

“I’ll be right back in. You stay here. He should lay down though.” The doctor pointed to Castiel.

Dean glanced down at the angel and saw what the doctor meant. The angel looked like he was about to fall asleep. When Dean glanced back up, the doctor was already gone.

Glancing over at the pile of pillows and blankets in the corner, Dean lifted the angel to stand. The creature fell against Dean’s chest unsteadily, like he was dizzy. _Is this normal?_

“Castiel?”

The angel hummed into his chest.

“Are you alright?”

A nuzzle into his chest was the only reply Dean got. Better than nothing.

Helping the surprisingly light creature to walk the few steps wasn’t too difficult. Dean sat down and arranged the near limp creature so the angel’s head was in Dean’s lap, and pulled a blanket over the creature.

Castiel turned towards Dean, the blanket twisting into a cocoon and grasped at Dean’s loose hanging jacket layers.

“Dean?” A voice came over the speakers.

“Yeah?” He called back.

“I’m coming back in.” Ah, Dr. Garner then.

“Alright.”

The door slid open, Dr. Garner stepped in and the door slid back closed. 

“How’s everything going in here?”

“Fine.” Dean started. “Except, is he okay?” Nodding down to Castiel, who appeared to be asleep now.

“Yes. Yes, he’s fine. It’s just a light sleeping medicine. Just to knock him out for a bit.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “A what? _Why?_ ” The creature seemed so harmless.

The doctor looked at Dean in a thinly masked gaze of exasperation. Dean was green, he really didn’t know the procedures of working with angels, but for Castiel, this seemed excessive. 

“His behavior towards you is…” The doctor waved his hand through the air, looking for the right word. “Unusual. It normally takes a few weeks for him to become this comfortable with an individual.”

_Weeks?_

“With this sudden attachment, it would be difficult for Castiel to see you leave. That it may cause him undue stress, and potentially anxiety.”

The doctor took a deep breath.

“Which is why we would like to offer you a position here. Specifically taking care of Castiel. Full time.”

“Me?” Dean was shocked. Any position working with angels was coveted, but Castiel was… special. Being able to touch an angel, that is- without them biting your hand off, was amazing.

“He’s taken to you. In a way that we have never seen him react to anyone before. His reaction alone is enough to warrant a study on. Think about the possibilities. Perhaps there is something about you, your scent that would transpose to helping the other angels. You have every prerequisite credential to begin working with angels. This is your chance. I invite you to think over this opportunity carefully.”

Dean barely thought it over. What was there to consider? Really? This was his dream. To work with angels and here it was. Granted he didn’t think he’d ever get this close to a conscious angel, but the dream was there all the same.

“Can I give you my answer now?” Dean asked carefully.

“Only if it’s good news.”

“Well. _Good news_.” Anyone could practically hear the jazz hands in his voice.

Dr. Garner released a sigh of what could only have been of relief.

“Thank goodness.” Dr. Garner breathed. “How does tomorrow morning at eight sound?”

“Fast turnaround there.” Dean considered, mentally checking his schedule. “Sounds good. I’ll be here. Eight sharp.”

“Splendid! Now, you’ll need to bring a night bag. Toiletries, a change of clothes, et cetera. Just in case.”

“In case of what??” Dean thought this request was odd.

“It’s standard procedure. Every employee keeps a bag here. In case of emergency. Special care overtime, extended prep.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Dean replied slowly.

“Good.” The doctor reached out to Castiel and shook him lightly. No response. “He’s out. I’m going to need you to leave your coat.”

“What? Why?” Dean liked his jacket.

“You really think he’s going to let go?” The doctor gestured down to where the angel had grasped Dean outer two jackets in a clenched fist. “Be my guest if you want to try to though.”

Dean gave a few perfunctory tugs before shrugging off the layers. The angel clutched the pieces of fabric closer unconsciously.

“I think having your scent will help overnight as well. Keep him calm and the chance of separation anxiety low.” The doctor spoke as Dean slipped out from under then angel, replacing his lap with a pillow to keep the angel’s head at the same angle. The angel’s eyebrows furrowed and drew the shirts closer, covering his nose and mouth with them. After a few breaths, the angel settled again and relaxed.

It seemed wrong to leave the cherub there, but when Dr. Garner led him out, gave him a stack of paper work, and told him to go home, Dean hopped into his car and drove off to his apartment. Trying to ignore the pull to go back. He was going back tomorrow, he rationalized.

As the trees and dotted houses along the freeway passed him, a precarious thought stuck out in his mind.

One of the best ways to understand an angel is to look at its wings. The movement, positioning, how fluffed the feathers were. All of it meant something. The odd thing was, the entire time Dean had spent with Castiel, he had never seen the angel’s wings move from the tightly pinned position against his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am totally making this stuff up as I go along. I honestly have only the vaguest sense of where this is going.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this last night, edited it this morning. I need to leave for work in 28 minutes, but I thought I would post it.
> 
> This isn't that long of a chapter, but I figured I had it done. So here it is!

Dean arrived back at the sanctuary at 10 ‘til 8. _Early is on time. On time is late. And late is unacceptable._ A motto one of his previous employers had.

Besides he didn’t really know where he was going, so the chances of him being ‘late’ anyway were quite high.

After hooking the parking permit on his rear view mirror, he grabbed his duffle, slung it over his shoulder and strode his way to the front entrance.

As soon as he walked in, he saw Dr. Garner leaning against a near wall. Arms crossed, tapping his foot, looking down at his watch, up at the ceiling, down at his watch, then over to the entrance. His eyes caught Dean’s, and the doctor was immediately surging towards him.

“Good morning!” Dean said, anxiously excited to start his new job. 

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester. Please, walk with me.” The doctor turned and lead Dean away.

Dr. Garner huffed and appeared to be gathering his thoughts.

“Everything alright?” Dean tentatively asked.

“Castiel had a rough night.” Dr. Garner started. “I don’t want to put pressure on you. I don’t expect you to be the fix-all, but I would like to, uh, see if you could do something to help. Does that make sense?” The doctor seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

“Uh, I guess.” Dean had no fucking clue what he was talking about. “What’s up with Castiel?”

Dr. Garner sighed. He started and stopped a few times, before saying, “Because of the sleeping medicine, we kept Castiel in the feeding room. Simply, so the other angels couldn’t bother or hurt him while he was unable to fend for himself. However, when he woke up, he wouldn’t go back into the main sanctuary.

“Had a bit of a temper tantrum, really. Won’t let anyone near him. Which is the problem. We need to move him to solitary, but he won’t let us.”

“Why solitary?” Dean inquired.

“Honestly, we were going to have to do it anyway, just to have him in a better space to interact with you. Due to the high risk of being attacked in the sanctuary, for any human. There is an entrance that angels can be called to from inside the sanctuary, but if he refuses to go inside the main sanctuary, we have to take him through employee halls. Which would be fine, but he won’t let us put a collar on him. Or anywhere near him, really.”

“I thought you didn’t need to.”

“For transfers through, if we didn’t and something happened, we would all get fired. If it were any other angel, we would just shoot them with a tranq gun, but that would break any semblance of trust we’ve worked months to build.”

They walked into the room that Dean stood in only yesterday. The room was the same, sans the group. Two other personnel in lab coats stood by the viewing glass, and barely gave a glance to the other two’s entrance. 

Dean walked up to the glass to see what kind of situation he was going to be working with. What he saw was not what he expected.

The entire room was flung a strew. A chair laid across the room on its side. The contents of the fridge and file cabinet were laying on the floor, clearly having been throw around like an overenthusiastic flower girl at a wedding. 

Then there was the creature in the corner. Blankets thrown and twisted around Castiel’s body. The only part of the angel that was visible to the outside world was his face, with Dean’s shirts draped around his neck.

Castiel’s body wracked with sobs, tears falling down his face, choosing one of the many paths that came from his eyes.

Dr. Garner stepped next to Dean’s still form.

“The sleeping medicine that we gave him,” Dr. Garner started, “It only lasts a few hours.”

Dean looked over at him with eyebrows raised, wondering the implications.

“He’s been like that all night.”

It was only then that Dean noticed just how dark the circles under the doctor’s eyes were. Dean wonders if he even went home last night. Dean looks back at the angel and makes a choice. He slings down his bag and steps in front of the door to gain entry to the room.

“Let me in.” A moment later, Dean steps in.

The angel doesn’t even look up at him at first, not until the door is shut behind Dean and he takes a step towards the cherub, noisily as he’s crunching down paper to do so. Castiel doesn’t even look at him, just growls lowly, a surprisingly low noise for the high pitched noises that were heard yesterday.

“Hey, Castiel.”

The angel’s head snaps up, and his face crumples, tears refreshing anew. A single arm comes out from the mass of blankets as Castiel reaches for Dean.

Dean wastes no time and strides across the trashed room with no hesitation, taking a knee in front of the miserable creature. He can surmise what the angel wants and lets himself be embraced, Castiel’s wet face buried in his neck. 

The angel draped himself on Dean, letting the man shoulder all of his weight. Which would have been fine, but the man was currently leaning over without a good center of balance.

“Hey, Castiel?” Dean started, the angel gripping him tighter. “Why don’t I sit down?”

Castiel gave a chirp that sounded like someone trying to be happy. Then promptly pushed Dean over so the angel was laying on top of him. 

_Not really what I meant…_

Dean just sighed and flopped a hand on Castiel’s head and around his waist. The creature nuzzled Dean’s neck with his nose, then breathed in through his mouth ghosting the sensitive skin of Dean’s neck, tasting without touching.

“Why are you so upset, hmm?” Dean asked the cherub, petting his hair pacifyingly. “Did you miss me?”

The angel just whined.

“I missed you.” He said it softly enough, he wasn’t sure if the angel had heard it. However, upon looking down to see if Castiel had indeed heard the words, he was pleasantly surprised to see Castiel smiling a relieved, content smile.

He lets the angel rest for a bit, just to give him time.

When Dean tries to explain to Castiel that they need to move him to another room, the angel whines and shakes his head no, clutching harder to Dean.

“Castiel. Either you have to go back into the sanctuary and meet me there, or you have to wear the collar, just for a little bit, but you would stay with me. So, what are we going to do? The sanctuary?”

Castiel rapidly shakes his head no.

“The collar?”

The angel’s nose wrinkles in disgust, grimacing, but nods anyway.

Dean is surprised. He knew how much Castiel hated the collar, how much it upset him. Yet, the angel had spoken, figuratively, so might as well get the show on the road.

“Are you ready?”

Castiel grumbled and sighed, letting out a small squeak that Dean took to mean affirmative. 

“Uhhh…” Dean started, staring at the ceiling. “Can anyone hear me?”

A crackle came over the intercom and a tinny voice rang out. “Yes, Mr. Winchester?”

“I think he’s ready to go. With the collar I mean, are we ready?”

“Yes, we’ll send someone in momentarily.” The intercom clicked off.

Dean turned his attention back to Castiel, who was starting to shiver.

“Hey, ummm.” He was trying to figure out how to phrase this. “Would you sit up for me? On my lap, so I can sit up?” He went ahead and tucked his legs into a crisscross. 

Castiel gave him a dubious look, but moved anyway. Dean made note of the hands clutching the shirt he was wearing and the squeeze he felt on his legs caged in Castiel’s. He wasn’t going anywhere without the angel if Castiel had anything to do with it.

Dean braced his forearms down to help him prop up onto his elbows before straightening and shifting into a sitting position. As soon as his hands were off of Castiel, the cherub was whimpering.

“Hey.” Dean said softly. “None of that now.”

It’s really a moot point because as soon as Dean has shifted his way into a sitting position and Dean has a hand back in the angel’s hair, the door opens.

A man comes in, lanky and sullen, with a metal collar and a large fold of thick black fabric.

Castiel clings to Dean, and Dean wishes he could take Castiel’s fear away, but the best he can do is get it over with as fast as possible.

The new man crouches next to the pair and nods a silent question with raised eyebrows. 

Dean turns to Castiel. “He’s going to put it on now.” The faintest of nods is his only response.

When the crouched man first touches Castiel’s neck, the angel flinches away like he’s been burned. 

“Shhhh. It’s going to be alright.” Dean tries to comfort the angel stroking his hair as the man slips the collar onto Castiel’s neck. The angel is perfectly still, a steady high, pitched whine is the only observable reaction out of the creature. The collar is quickly tightened, locked, and activated, a steady green light proving so.

When the stranger brings up the black fabric previously discarded to the side, the angel begins trembling.

“This too.” The nameless man states, holding it up.

“What is it?” Dean asks, genuinely unknowing.

“Blindfold.” Was the gruff reply. “Not a choice.”

Dean had never hated a piece of fabric more. Confirming with Castiel, the angel blankly nods, and the man moves to position the mask.

The angel stares at Dean like he’s never going to see him again. 

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The angel stares straight into his eyes until his own are completely covered. The blind fold covers the entirety of Castiel’s skull, only leaving an upside-down V opening for his nose and mouth. 

The moment Castiel loses his vision, is the moment Dean knows he’s going to have to buy a new shirt. Fists clenched the fabric so tight, Dean was sure it would be distorted, stretched out with torn threads and elastic.

After the mask is tightened and deemed acceptable, Dean moves to stand, trying to prompt Castiel to stand. No reaction. He tries to move the creature off his lap so he can stand up. The legs once sitting astride his lap are now wrapped around his waist, squeezing so tight of few of his vertebrae might have popped. 

He runs a hand in circles on Castiel’s hip, speaking comforting words that he’s not going anywhere, to lighten up because he’s starting to have a hard time breathing.

In a moment of clarity, Dean realizes that this contraption is the stupidest fucking thing he’s ever seen because not only does it block the angel’s vision, but it cancels out sound. Castiel can’t fucking _hear him_.

He sits there for a moment and tries to think how he’s going to get Castiel to walk to solitary before he realizes he _isn’t_. Castiel isn’t going to let go for anything, he’s going to have to carry the angel.

It’s awkward, trying to stand up with a full grown being clinging to him, but he manages it. Dean reviews his schooling and wonders if all of an angel’s bones were hollow, or just the ones in the wings, because Castiel is light.

Upon standing and finding a good grip, he finds a nose in his neck, insistently sniffing and huffing, as if confirming between one breath and another, the being carrying the angel is still, in fact, the same being.

All Dean can do is let him, other than his smell, he can’t do much to comfort the angel right now. His hands were occupied holding up the angel’s weight, because while light, the angel wasn’t a helium filled balloon.

 

The walk to the solitary habitat takes longer than Dean thought it would. Also, the guy guiding him might not know where he’s going.

Dean swears they’ve been down the same hallway three times, before taking a random door, near where they _started_ , down a short hallway and down some stairs.

When they finally do get there, Dean is surprised by how big it is. When Dean comments, he’s told that it’s usually for sick or pregnant angels, they have to have room to fly, someplace to bathe, choices in nests, someplace to sun themselves. By the end of the spiel, Dean regrets asking. And now knows everything an angel need to survive via captivity.

A large, black container is brought inside the habitat by the man with the sense of direction of a cow. There’s a notebook to note any and all behaviors Castiel is displaying. A phone is tossed on top with directions to call if he needs anything. 

“There’s food in the box, so if he gets hungry, you know.” The man waves flippantly.

“Is it, you know?” He gestures to the food.

The man, who Dean hopes has a GPS in his car, shakes his head at Dean like he’s stupid.

“Drugs. Are there any drugs in the food?” 

“No. It’s clean.”

Dean is still standing when the man removed the collar first, deactivating it, unlocking it, and loosening it, before removing the headpiece off of Castiel.

He blinks owlishly at Dean, before a small droopy smile appears on his manifestly exhausted face.

The man leaves with a reminder for Dean to call should he find he needs anything.

Dean isn’t the only one to be relieved in his absence. The angel was noticeably more relaxed the moment the door shut to the habitat. 

So Dean thought, foolishly in retrospect, that the angels would be fine sleeping laying down, using Dean’s lap as a pillow. But no, Castiel fastidiously ignored all of Dean’s attempts to coax him off, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he would be there when Castiel awoke. Giving in, Dean scans the area. There are quite a few trees, thick with obstructing canopies. Dean can faintly hear water running somewhere.

Finding the most comfortable looking tree he can, Dean awkwardly sits down, still holding the clingy cherub. At least Castiel unhooked his legs from around Dean’s waist, so he could lean back against it properly.

It took a few minutes, before the adrenaline died down and the exhausted overtook him, and Castiel was slumbering. 

The angel, asleep on Dean’s lap, was like a heated blanket and Dean can’t help how drowsy he feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably wing grooming in next chapter, or really soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m modeling quite a bit of Castiel’s behavior after parrots, so… Yes, these are real behaviors and yes, I am bending them to my will. Because I can.
> 
> Also, I feel the need to apologize for being weird. And awkward.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Dean hadn’t realized how tired he was until he woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in months. Graduating, filling out job applications, updating his resume, and going on interviews had taken more out of him than he thought.

_Shoot. I actually need to cancel that interview for next week._

It wasn’t a big deal, just a small research company that didn’t have the perk of being able to interact with angels. Just videos or educating the public or something like that. Researching a company until the day before was a waste really, because he’d forget it all before he got there.

In his waking sleep, Dean became aware of a few things. One was that he was lying down, rather than sitting up leaning against the tree he had fallen asleep against. The ground wasn’t the most comfortable thing that Dean had slept on, but it wasn’t in his bottom five either. 

The grass was well watered and plush beneath his head, and from the few moments he had been awake, he didn’t have the kink in his neck that surely would have been there, had he stayed against the tree. Or maybe the angel’s head, tucked into his neck, would have made a nice pillow.

The area was well maintained, including temperature, from what Dean could tell of what wasn’t an angel splayed across the top of him. That was the second thing he noted, the sound of contentment, a deep steady purr reverberated from Castiel. At first he thought it might have been snoring, but the angel’s breaths were steady, and the purring undisturbed by the consistent expansion and contraction of the angel’s ribcage.

He took the time to appreciate the relaxed look on the face the angel. Cheeks slightly red, warm with sleep, the angel was the epitome of contentment. Face no longer streaked with tears, eyes no longer red. 

Dean wondered, not for the first time, why the angel wanted Dean with him, was afraid to see him go. 

Dean never thought of himself as anything special. He was in the top half of his class. _Barely._ There was a lot of weeding out in his classes. Tests that if you didn’t pass, you couldn’t make it to the next curriculum year. From what he’d heard, mostly from his brother’s, Sam, girlfriend Jess who was in medical school, it wasn’t entirely unlike training to become a doctor. 

He’d worked hard, there was no doubt about that. So, hopefully, when the angel decided he had gotten bored of Dean, he’d at least have a bit of experience under his belt that would make him employable to other companies.

The purrs resounding from the sleeping cherub where not entirely unlike a cat. It was difficult to place. For one, the angel was much larger than a standard domesticated house cat, causing the vibrations to rumble through Dean’s entire body. The deep drone reminded Dean of a car engine, a good one, none of that fuel efficiency crap. But that too, was different. The best he could akin the sound to was a quick, equidistant series of low clicks.

The grip Castiel had on him was loosen, but still present, there would be no disappearing acts from Dean, not that he would do that to the creature. That would just be too cruel. 

Dean thinks back to seeing the room the angel had trashed. Castiel didn’t just miss Dean, he missed him… aggressively. He hadn’t hurt anyone, true, but maybe that was the need for the collar yesterday, today. He didn’t really know what time it was. 

It had been long enough that he was hungry. He could go for a burger, there was supposed to be a cafeteria in the building somewhere. But it was then realized that he had forgotten his bag. Unless someone moved it, it was still sitting outside of the feeding room.

His stomach growled. Loudly. The angel on top of him shifted a little bit but didn't seem to wake. Castiel must be hungry too. If he hadn't eaten since Dean fed him the previous night. Which he surely hadn't.

He realized that he probably wouldn't be able to go to the cafeteria to get his glorious burger because the angel would probably have a panic attack if he even said that he was going to leave for any duration, for any reason.

Or maybe it was the fact that Dean didn’t tell him that he was leaving before he left… Or the fact that Castiel got drugged, did he know that he was slipped something? Honestly, there was next to no way to know what had gone through the angel’s mind. 

Dean’s musings succumbed to hunger and drowsiness. While he really, truly did not want to disturb the angel’s sleep, he should get some food in both of them. Dean rationalized that if he didn’t leave Castiel’s sight that the angel wouldn’t be hurt that Dean had left, after all he would be right there. 

So, he gathered Castiel’s limp, relaxed limbs to avoid them getting crushed, and prepared to roll them on their sides.

However, as soon as lifts his knee and puts force into the turn, the saccharine drone drops down to a warning growl.

_Well, so much for that._

“Castiel? Are you awake?” If he is, then they can both get some grub. 

The angel groans and removes his arms from Dean’s loose grip and wraps one around Dean’s shoulder, taking a fist of cloth in his hand. While the other hand is plopped on Dean’s face, effectively smothering any subsequent words, should they come. 

“Mmph!” Dean shakes the hand off his face, moving his face to the side to continue speaking understandable words.

“Don’t you want food? Do you want me to feed you?” He tries to say it enticingly, but is pretty sure it comes out patronizing.

Castiel looks at him like he’s stupid, and he feels stupid, but then the creature sits up, swings a leg over the side, effectively removing all of his weight from Dean, though a hand is still clasped in his shirt.

Dean shivers at the sudden release of heat. The air feels too cold, like a blanket was ripped off. But his stomach growls again and he reassesses his priorities, as he sits up, rubbing his arms to try and get rid of the goosebumps now littering his arms.

Castiel clings to Dean’s shirt, but allows him to sit up, when he goes to stand up, however, the angel’s hand is like a dead weight on his shoulder.

Kneeling, Dean says, mumbles really, trying to figure out an easier way for him to move, “Hey, why don’t we put this…” He takes Castiel’s hand and gently pulls it down his arm, never removing contact, in fact, the angel seemed happier for the skin contact, until the angel’s firm grasp is around his wrist. “Here.”

Dean stands, waiting for the cherub to do the same. When he doesn’t, Dean extends his other hand for Castiel to take and gently raises the wrist Castiel has a hold of to prompt the angel up.

Castiel reaches up his hand, but by passes Dean’s, tugging on the man’s shirt and looking up at him with large, inquiring. Dean barely contains an eye roll. 

_Give him an inch, he’ll take a mile._

“I’m not carrying you, Castiel.” Dean says, trying to be firm. 

Castiel grumbles and petulantly huffs before, during, and after standing.

With the angel’s hand wrapped around his wrist, it’s easy to guide him over to the black container waiting with promised food. It only takes him a few movements, of relocating the glorified walkie-talkie looking phone to the ground and opening the container, to realize that the angel wasn’t going to remove his hand and that Dean’s mobility was frustratingly limited.

Grabbing Castiel’s hand, he relocates it to his back. He regrets it almost immediately. The angel’s hand is pulling the shirt down his back, causing the neckline to dig into his neck, not cutting off, but defiantly restricting his air.

He takes the angel’s hand and thinks while the Castiel amuses himself playing with Dean’s fingers.

He calculates the perfect spot. He can stand and Castiel would be able to reach it, meaning the angel didn’t have to actually get up. His arms would be free and no weight would be pulling on his arms or neck.

It all looked good on metaphorical paper, but…

Dean looks at the creature, because that was what Castiel was, a creature. Dean knew that every animal, creature, and human had things that they were uncomfortable with. Angel’s had no issues touching each other’s clothing, so this shouldn’t really be any different.

Dean wraps his hand around Castiel’s, effectively ceasing the angel’s movements and capturing his attention. He tugs up the side of his shirt so that just a sliver of skin is showing. Checking to see if Castiel is in any way alarmed, he only finds an intrigued expression. 

He parts Castiel’s hand, takes two of the angel’s fingers, and wraps it around one of his belt loops.

The cherub looks… angrily perplexed. He runs a thumb over the small width of fabric, before giving the loop a few perfunctory tugs. Upon finding that it attached to Dean’s center of gravity, the angel tugged Dean towards him and chirped, before nodding back to the container.

Taking that as a go ahead, and acceptance of the position, Dean riffles through the bin, taking things out as he goes. On top is a field notebook, followed by a pack of nut bars, a thermos of something discernably not liquid, a few water bottles, and an apple. There’s more underneath, but when Castiel sees the apple, he snatches it and chirps excitedly.

Holding both arms out straight, cupping the apple in both hands, presenting the apple to Dean as if to say: _This is the one. I want this._

 _Apple it is, then._ Dean grabs a nut bar for himself, tearing it open and taking a bite, when Castiel chirps at him, getting his attention. bending his arms just to thrust them back out to Dean. Pointedly looking at the apple before glancing back at Dean.

“What?” It comes out muffled as he chews around his food.

The angel bent his arms just to thrust them back out to Dean, still cupping the apple.

 _Oh._ Castiel wants to be fed by him. He’s almost annoyed, but checks himself. The only living entities that had ever been nice to him were humans. Castiel has placed his trust in Dean, for whatever incredulous reason, and that trust should not be taken lightly. The creature is not bound by Dean’s notion of self-sufficiency and independence. 

“You want me to hold it?”

The angel nods enthusiastically, pushing the apple into Dean’s now outreached palm, rethreading two fingers through Dean’s belt loop.

Dean holds it out so the angel can take a bite, Castiel clicks his head to the side. Eyebrows scrunching together.

He brings the apple back, examining it, seeing if it needs to be washed or if there’s a sticker somewhere on it. The excited look on the creatures face the closer Dean brought the apple to his face.

Dean brings the apple to his mouth and takes a bite out of it, careful not to suck to juice out of it, he takes it out of his mouth and examines it. It’s still too big to be a reasonable sized bite for the angel, so he bites it in half. One piece tucked into his palm, he extends the bite of apple directly into the cherub’s waiting mouth.

With the next piece already at the ready, Castiel quickly swallows and takes it with his mouth, lightly licking Dean’s fingertips. He chews slower this time, waiting for Dean to prep his next bite.

They’re halfway through the apple when Castiel lays his head down on Dean’s lap, body facing away, curled into the downslope of Dean’s thigh. 

Dean fed him all the same. Resting the heel of his hand on the cherub’s jaw, palm flush with his cheek, pressing a sliver of apple through the angel’s lips. He would let his hand linger there for a moment, giving Castiel the chance to lightly suck on the pads of his fingers, cleaning them of any stray juice.

He found himself leaving his hand there longer and longer, objectively because the angel whined whenever he took it away. The angel wasn’t even taking his finger into his mouth. Every once in a while, the cherub’s tongue would lazily flick out once, twice, before sucking on the pad of his finger.

Sucking might have been an over statement. It was a push of the lips outward until the angel’s lips met or created a light sealed circle with Dean’s fingerprint with just the barest bit of suction, then opening and relaxing, pulling his lips back like a wave. Slowly rocking back and forth.

Dean ate his bar, idling wondering when someone would be in to check on them. When he finished, he popped open a sandwich bag and placed his wrapper and Castiel’s apple core inside. 

Scooping up the field journal, he flips it open. There’s a note for him inside the cover of the blank field journal that read:

_Catch up on documentation and notes up through today. Please note any behavior. Full physical assessment needs to be completed by tomorrow._

Dean knows that he needs to document everything. Which means that the angel can’t take up all of his attention. He already has so much he needs to catch up on.

Castiel is surprisingly easy to appease. Dean can get all of the work he wants done, as long as he’s willing to do it one handed. While taking notes on a propped up knee, he’ll have the other laid flat, the angel’s head resting on it. Dean runs his hands through the angel’s hair. Slowly running his fingers through it, combing out the curls, gently idly massaging the angel’s scalp.

However, one of the angel’s favorite things is when Dean rubs his cheeks. When Dean had gone to grab something, he put his hand back on Castiel’s cheeks on accident and didn’t realize that his mistaken ministrations were appreciated when the creature’s purring intensified dramatically. 

He made a note of it.

The skin was soft beneath his thumb, rolling large circles on the angel’s cheek, making the pale skin slightly red from the pressure and friction. Dean was sure that the angel was getting warmer from the contact, another testament that it was an attentive care Dean could provide for him.

Angels, as a species, did not grow facial hair. Just, as with everywhere else, had the fine, nearly invisible, mostly indiscernible fine hair that you could only see if the angle and light were right. 

Castiel pressed his face into Dean’s hand whenever he went too light with the pressure. Rubbing his face into Dean’s palm or butting his head into Dean’s fingers, when he got lost in a particularly detailed entry or was trying to remember the correct term.

It’s not until his hand in cramping, he can feel the veins in his hand trying to pop out from under his skin, his forearm is sore and he’s fairly sure he may have bruises on his fingertips that he decides to take a break from writing. Well, a break from outlining what other behaviors he needs to observe from Castiel. It’s a painfully incomplete list, as there is so much to observe. 

However, Dean notes with an unpleasant- shiver, many behaviors require two or more angels to interact with each other. He isn’t sure if he can do that to the sweet creature. 

He has a file documenting Castiel’s captive life. There were reports noting, quite a few notes, of injuries. Of Castiel being attacked for no discernable reason. Guesses of territory, protecting or demonstrating for a pair bond, and skirmishes over food sources were always noted afterwards with practically verbatim for ‘we really have no idea, but will put this here because we have to put something’.

Pushing those thoughts away, he flips to a page where he’s sketched out Castiel from the front, back and side with intentionally little detail. He needed to report a physical assessment, which meant giving Castiel a full body examination. 

He really didn’t have the equipment to test reflexes or get the angel’s weight and exact height, but Dean can guess that he’ll have access to an examination room soon. If not later today, then tomorrow. 

He’s already jotted down notes about things that he doesn’t need to poke, prod, or have Castiel in a state of undress for.

The angel’s hair is soft, in short loose curls, and obviously cut about once a month by someone. Castiel is one of the only ones to have such short hair, most males didn’t bother hacking away at it or having another do it. And having a researcher do it? Tranquilizing thirty males every month for a haircut wasn’t exactly in their budget. 

The shade of the angel’s hair was unusual, pitch black. Most angels had a light, honey brown hair, with the usual standard deviation of shades. A few lighter blondes, a few darker browns. Castiel was the first angel Dean’s seen, in person or a picture of, or a _rumor_ of, for that matter, that has had black hair. 

Castiel’s skin shade as well, was more pale than most of the other angels. Granted that could be because he was mostly is the shade, avoiding encroaching on the sunning spots of other angels.

He was actually taller than many of the other angel, but not as stocky. Not that the other angels were big, but they had a thickness to them, layers of muscle. Wherein, by comparison, Castiel was almost scrawny. His lithe body didn’t match theirs.

Too dark, too pale, too tall, too thin. Castiel was a statistical anomaly. 

Then there was Castiel’s wings. They were, for many reasons, odd. Off.

The color, for one. Not many angels had “true white” wings, finger quotes intended. Most common was a light caramel, darker on the back of the wing, lighter on the inside of the wing. 

Castiel’s wings were… grey. Blotchy grey. Some darker, some black. Dean noticed the long primaries were darker, the closer to the angel’s body, the lighter. It wasn’t that that would have made the wings unsightly. It was just that, it looked like someone had dumped a bucket of flour on his wings. A week ago.

Now, here was the thing about an angel’s wings: no touching without explicit permission. This seemed to go for all creatures. A butterfly touches them. Dead. Angel touches them. Dead. Human touches them. It’s a pretty straight forward pattern, but just so there’s no misunderstanding: dead.

Researchers bypass this with tranquilizers and sedatives, but angel etiquette was taught, and Dean was relieved to be privileged with this information. A good way to make a creature turn against you was to overstep their boundaries. 

Usually angels allowed those closest to them, a mate, parent, or sibling, to preen them. It required trust. Nothing was more important to an angel that it’s wings. 

Here was another fun thing about angels: they loved to bathe. Loved to preen, be preened, fluff their feathers, get them wet, dry them out. If given the opportunity, angels would be constantly in and out of the water, bathing a minimum of three times a day.

Dean wondered if anyone working at the sanctuary had gotten Castiel’s permission to touch his wings. Not because he thought the angel wouldn’t trust a human, although looking at his wings it didn’t look like he did, because Dean knew for a fact, would bet money, that Castiel hadn’t had thoroughly cleaned his wings in a week, maybe longer.

There was also the discernable, disconcerting lack of movement of Castiel’s wings. 

An angel’s wings were extremely expressive. Fluffing in surprise or fear. Flipping in happiness or anger. Sagging in sadness.

Dean had seen Castiel in a litany of emotions, contentedness, distraught, grumpy. 

Nothing. His wings did nothing.

They sat. Tightly tucked against the angel’s back. Motionless. 

_Inert._ Dread filled Dean with the thought. Angels had been euthanized for less.

Castiel was special though, Dean reasoned. Plus, he hadn’t directly asked the angel to move his wings. Castiel was an anomaly is every other way; why not this one?

Dean realized he’d been long lost in his thoughts, or ‘reviewing his notes’ he would have answered, had anyone been there to ask him.

He looked down at Castiel, assessing if the angel was asleep. “Castiel?” Dean whispered softly.

The cherub looked up at him curiously, eyes hazed with contentedness. 

“Would you like to take a bath?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am open to requests for situations regarding feeding scenes in this story. It could be food, a position, ect.
> 
> I have plans for Castiel feeding Dean, mouth feeding, and bottle feeding, not in that order and providing I can make it make sense.
> 
> For the fluff!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This story has a plot.
> 
> If you are also reading my other story, Demesne, it does not. Probably. (But seriously I have no idea what's going to happen, so your guess is as good as mine. You know, minus the stuff that I do know. *internally screaming*) So, that one is going to take a few more days. Sorry about the wait. 
> 
> If you wanted to learn about birds, today is your lucky day! Cause this took waaay too much research. (and getting distracted by the inverse relationship between the size of an animal and it's heart rate. Did you that the average resting bpm for an elephant is 35-40 bpm?)
> 
> *raises crystal light water* Stay nerdy my friends.
> 
> But seriously, enjoy!

Castiel looked hesitant. Uncomfortable. Timid.

As soon as Dean had asked the question, the angel’s hand flew to his lips, nail digging into the flesh of his lower lip. Slowly, after more than a few moments, Castiel nodded his head.

They stood. Castiel had two fingers looped in Dean’s belt, the other raised to his chest, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and index finger. The fabric was a dark, washed out grey. Durable, meant to be used, to be rough with, to be stained. 

The collar of the shirt was loose around the angel’s neck, stopping an inch down the cherub’s sternum. It looked like a normal shirt from the front; and technically from the back as well, due to not being able to see the back of the shirt due to the non-transparent nature of wings.

However, underneath there was one hole for the connection between the angel’s back and wings, with buttons on the collar to keep the garment from falling off. Although, the neck was large enough that Castiel would be able to slip it over his head and shimmy out of it. From the same material, a loose pair of shorts hang with an elastic waist band, from Castiel’s hips.

To Dean, it looks incredibly itchy and uncomfortable. It was a mass produced one-size fits all uniform.

There were certain sanctuaries, with better budgets, that had beautiful white garments. These were less research facilities and more glorified zoos, but they had the funds to make the angels seem less like what they were, aggressive, territorial, and possessive creatures, and more like what humans wanted them to be, id est beautiful, graceful, merciful creatures that were of heaven. 

In the back of the solitary habitat, on the side, was a small pool. An artificial waterfall kept the water moving, running it through a filtration system, to keep the water clean. 

Dean sat down, taking off his shoes, socks, and rolling up his pant legs. The longer they were by the water, the twitchier Castiel got. Pulling on Dean’s belt loop, looking around nervously.

“Do you want help taking off your clothes?” Dean asked. 

The angel shook his head, diffident. Taking one last glance around, stepped into the water fully clothed, and sunk down. He crouched there, water up to his chest, wings getting heavy with water.

The angel was just sitting there. No preening, no flicking, no fluffing.

“Castiel? Do you need help?”

Castiel looked helplessly at him, but shook his head. Taking another glance around, he stood and walked deeper into the pool. Every once in a while, he would twist his body back and forth, making waves, but also agitating his wings, getting rid of the outer layer of the film on his feathers. Dean knew it wasn’t enough.

He let the angel put around for a little while, putting his feet in the water, kicking them a little, watching Castiel dunk his head in the water.

It was only when Castiel headed back over with the intent of getting out that Dean stopped him.

“Castiel, what about your wings?”

The angel looked like he was about to cry, shaking his head no furiously. 

“Do you want me to help you?” The angel paused. “May I touch your wings?”

The angel shook his head no, dejectedly, but went back into the water until he was waist deep again. He reached back, under his left arm, to reach a wing. Gently, he wiped what Dean could only assume were his primary coverts. Then carded his fingers into them. It looked like it stung, but a small cloud of white seeped into the water.

Progress. It was slow, but better than nothing.

After a few minutes of running his hands through the feathers, he’s run out of space that the can easily reach. Turning to the other side, he does the same. Wincing every once in a while, but for the most part managing to keep a straight face. 

Dean notices the angel trying to make his way back up to him, but after a pointed look, the cherub huffs ceases his advancements and turns his attentions back to a wing.

He tried, painfully, to bring the wing foreword, trying to reach more feathers. It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that the angel would pause every few moments and look around. Up, side to side. 

When it looked like the angel was about to break down in tears, Dean intervened.

“Castiel.” Dean called and waived the angel over. The cherub made his way towards him. “Please, let me help you?” He tried to ask as delicately as possible.

Castiel’s eyebrows were drawn together in confliction, mouth quivering. Before glancing around one more time, and nodding.

“Do I have permission?” Dean asked as he extended and arm. He received a nod in return.

He started with the feathers on the very top of the wing, the marginal coverts, the safe feathers. The top and outside of the wings were safe, it was the inside of the wings that held implications.

Castiel shivered as Dean lightly petted the arch of his wing, getting him used to the feeling of someone touching them. 

“This okay?” Again, a nod. A hand reached out and grabbed his ankle.

At least he could feel it, feel his wings being touched. That was a good sign.

He dug a little deeper, carding his hands into the plume gently. His hands came out covered in a gritty white matter. Some of it was wet, some of it that was closer to the skin of the wing was a fine powder.

Dean experimented gently, parting the feathers and pouring a palm full of water into the crevasse. The water ran out looking like watery, curdled milk. 

Under every feather was white powder, a dust. It was powder down, Dean realized. Pulviplumes. Feather dust. Tiny little feathers that tips continually break off and keep the wings properly clean, healthy, and warm. 

It was clotted, backed up with the stuff. Dean knew that it would take hours to properly clean the wings.

He gave the wrist of the wings, connected to the primaries, a gentle press, seeing if he could get the wing to reflex into extending. 

Castiel gave a soft moan before the wing was pulled back in. Dean let go, not wanting to cause any pain.

“Did that hurt?”

The angel shook his head no and looked around again, then at Dean.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes to release the breath. Eyebrows scrunched together, eyes squeezed shut, the wing slowly extended. 

A cathartic rush shot through Dean’s body. 

 

The wing had barely extended before the angel winced and made small hum, stopping the movement. Castiel was breathing harder now.

Dean slowly put his hands back onto Castiel’s wing, massaging the wrist. Little sounds came out of the cherub’s mouth, _ngh_ ’s and _ah_ ’s, and the wing slowly started to extend more. The angel was slowly relaxing, eyes still darting around the area every once in a while, but for the most part are closed.

With every shift in the angel’s wing, Dean could see creases of what was not immediately visible when Castiel was still, was white. 

The muscle was tight, and in horrid knots. 

Dean works down from the wrist, finding the alula, the thumb of the wing. He gently pulls it, finding how much it can stretch.

It isn’t far, as it turns out. So, he just rubs it in small circles and moves it back a few times, pressing into the joint to test the spread reflex. It isn’t bad. It isn’t good either.

When Dean tries to gently move the wing front to back, Castiel hisses and scrunches his nose in pain. 

“Sorry.” Dean mumbles sympathetically. “I’m just gonna…”

He stands and brings himself to Castiel’s side, sitting just slightly behind him. He’s waist deep up in the water sitting cross-legged, but he has better access to the parts of the wing that are appropriate for him to touch and the scapula that was obviously- kinked and sore from disuse. 

With one wing hardly outstretched and the other still closely tucked against his back, Dean has to reach a hand through a slot of feather to reach the angel’s back.

When Dean’s hand brushes Castiel’s skin, the angel sucks in a quiet breath and arches away. The sudden movement causes the cherub to wince, but then settles enough that Dean knows it’s all right to continue. Dean mumbles an apology before rubbing his hand in slow circles in between the second set of the angel’s scapulae.

Angels have two sets of scapulae, each smaller than a human of the same proportion. Due to the smaller scapulae, the shoulders of angels are noticeably smaller than a human counterpart. 

Dean feels for the texture of where the wing meets the skin. It’s irritated, unsurprisingly.

“Hey. Lean back for me.” Dean says, as he presses a hand against Castiel’s shoulder guiding him back.

Castiel is resting on Dean’s knees, his back half immersed in the water. Dean rubs in between his scapulae, massaging around the shoulder joints of the wings as best he can. The water becomes murky with the white powder. 

He works his way from there, concentrating on Castiel’s left wing, as he has, going meticulously through the medium length, but wide, scapular feathers. The cherub’s wings are slowly drooping, becoming more saturated with water.

He finds feathers that are twisted, sticking out to the side. The feathers individually are broken, or the barbs are broken, causing an improper seal. He wonders if Castiel gets cold easily because of his feathers inability to trap heat inside. He runs his hands through them, trying to straighten them. 

Castiel hisses and flinches, but doesn’t move away, so he continues. As much pain as this is causing the angel, Dean can only imagine the irritation of having them damaged and out of position.

Dean can’t see his angel’s face, but he knows that Castiel’s eyes are likely squeezed shut, brows knitted in pain. The only reason he can continue is knowing that the cherub is in pain from the malalignment of the feathers. Itchy from the buildup of dust beneath his feathers.

What he doesn’t expect, is for the sound of a small sob to reach his ears.

“Castiel? Are you alright?”

The sobs get louder now that Dean has voiced his concern. The angel’s shoulders trembling, shaking.

When Dean removes his hand from Castiel’s plumage, the creature cries out and sits up. Dean rises, keeping a hand on the angel’s back to keep him from being dragged back with the weight of his wings, and moves to sit in front of the weeping cherub.

Dean can see dried tear tracks, side by side with fresh ones. Castiel had been crying for longer than he had realized.

The angel climbs in his lap, clutching to the collar of his shirt, fisting the fabric. A hand searching for his, once found, the cherub guides it back to the plumage. 

Dean listens to the noises Castiel makes carefully. They aren’t of pain. At least, not entirely of pain. It’s… _relief_. A bittersweet joy. A broken hallelujah. 

Dean lets his fingers run through the feathers, hoping to soothe the angel. The cherub lets go of Dean’s hand, but is sobbing more than ever.

The angel grabs at his hair, the back of his head, pushing it up, getting it wet, rubbing it in circles. Dean finds it relaxing in a way that he wouldn’t have thought it would.

He gently pulls his hand through the plumage, letting loose feathers float away with the water. Until he realizes what Castiel is doing. He’s being _preened_. He’s being preened _while_ he himself is preening Castiel. 

They’re allopreening. 

Dean digs through his head, looking for why Castiel would engage in such behavior. The only reason for allopreening was for nestlings, familiar members, pair bonds, and for after a fight, as a sign of submission and forgiveness.

Did Castiel think he was mad at him? That he had done something wrong? 

But that simply didn’t fit. There was nothing for Dean to be mad about. So, he put a pin in it and tabled the thought.

Running his hand through the scapular feathers until there are no more feathers coming loose with each run. The water is less milky, but Dean is sure that another bath, either later today or tomorrow is inevitable. 

The wing couldn’t stretch out enough for Dean to be able to reach the primaries, due to the secondaries covering them. So, Dean made do, working his way through the secondaries, feeling the muscle, massaging it. Listening to the angel mew, purr, squeak, and groan.

Dean’s shirt soaked, as was his head. Although, Castiel took great care making sure that his face was dry. Catching droplets before they reached his eyes. Dean vaguely wondered if the cleaning system for the pond was sufficient to clear out the trace amount a gel that had come out of his hair.

He’s trying his best to ignore the cherub. Not because he doesn’t appreciate the effort or wants to, in any way. But every time he makes eye contact, the angel breaks down into tears again.

His arms are getting heavy. Trying to run them through the wings for what seemed like, and might’ve been, the thousandth time. He ends up resting his hand on the wing, just rubbing at the base of the feathers, in the exterior greater secondary coverts.

An out of place, obviously fake ringing comes from across the habitat. 

The noise makes Castiel jump, wings clamping down on Dean’s hand, snapping shut. The angel is instantly on high alert. Looking around quickly and precisely, moving Dean’s head out of view to do so. Meaning that his head has been graciously shoved against the angel’s chest.

The muscles are tense, ready to move, to bolt. 

_The phone._ Dean recalls.

He can hear Castiel’s heartbeat. He can _feel_ it. It isn’t going extraordinarily fast, not for an angel anyway, but it was loud.

Dean attempts to lift Castiel with him, but the angel shrieks out in pain, wings too heavy, saturated with water for the angel to be able to keep them tight against his back. Stretching the wings further than the muscle is able to.

“Stay.” He tells the cherub, wiping away a semi-dried tear from the angel’s face. He shimmies himself out from under Castiel and tries to focus on getting to the phone and not the mews coming from the cherub. 

He doesn’t make it to the phone before it stops ringing. Unsure of what to do, he picks up the phone and pokes around it. Just long enough for it to surprise him, the phone starts ringing again. He answers this time.

“Hello?” Dean greets.

“Hey! Glad you’re awake. We had someone check on you a few hours ago, but you and Castiel were both asleep.” The grainy, tinny voice was hard to recognize.

“Yeah. We’ve been up for a while. Got some grub, caught up on notes, we were in the middle of…” Dean isn’t sure if he should tell them. He doesn’t know why, but it’s enough to make him hesitate. “But then you called! What’s up?”

“Well, it’s past time for a lunch break, but I figured you’d still want one. So, I was just calling ahead to see if you were ready someone to come down and let you out.”

Dean’s stomach growled. He really, _really_ wanted a burger. But he knew Castiel would throw a hissy fit.

“Give me forty-five minutes to wrap up and talk to Castiel about it.”

The man on the other end of the line didn’t speak for a long moment. “Uuummm. Ookaay.”

“Oh! Before I forget, could you have someone bring my bag to me? I left it in the viewing room outside the main sanctuary, where Castiel had his little freak out.”

“Yeah. Sure. No problem. See you in a few.”

“Yeah. Thanks, man.”

They hung up. Awkward. He still wasn’t sure who it had been on the other line, and if he did know, or was supposed to know, who it was. 

He needed to finish up Castiel’s wings. Or at least as much as he could. He could probably get six people working on these wings and it would still take hours.

Going back over to the angel, he went over the other wing. Massaging the joints, getting as much gunk out as he could. Castiel didn’t try to preen him like before, just purred and squeaked.

He got to one part, running his hand over the exterior greater secondary coverts, where the bulk of the muscle is in the wing, and the angel just _sighed_. A voiceless moan. A little puff of air.

It was difficult to massage, with all the feathers in the way, but Dean tried his best with what little time he had.

Trying to finish up, with his hand cupped, he ran his hand down the length of the wings, trying to skim as much water off of them as he could. 

He picked up the cherub, wings trapped between Dean’s arms and Castiel’s back, bringing him to a sunny, or at least well-lit, area of the habitat.

Prompting the angel to stand, he sets the cherub on his feet, and circles around him to muse the plumage. In order to dry properly, or at least quickly enough to dry before it gets dark, the feathers have to be fluffed. 

Since Castiel, Dean surmises, isn’t going to do it himself, Dean is more than willing to do it for him.

He pushes the feathers against the grain, making them stand up on an angle, allowing air to breeze through the feathers down to the root.

Castiel protests, but Dean quickly soothes him, digging into the spots that he’s learned make the angel melt.

A paging buzz comes from over the intercom, making Castiel startle and curl in.

Dean goes around to the font of the angel, cupping the cherub’s cheek to make him look up, forcing eye contact.

“Castiel.” Dean wanted to make sure the angel was looking at him, attention focused. “Do you trust me?” He tried to make it sound the least-douchey he could.

The cherub’s eyebrows scrunched together, but nodded nonetheless.

“Then trust me when I say I’m coming back. I’ll only be gone for a little while, probably just an hour. And then I’m coming back.”

The angel’s eyes went wide. His whole body stiffened. His breaths became shallower. 

He nodded.

Before Dean knew what had happened, the angel had rushed him, knocking a bit of air out of him with an _oomph_. The angel buried his head in Dean’s neck, taking deep breaths. Arms wrapped around him, tightly, just enough to hurt a little, but not enough for him to mention it.

Dean is surprised when the angel pulls back willingly. The cherub nods again, looking meek, and plops himself onto the ground, belly down. Showing that he won’t follow Dean out.

Dean would have thought the angel was lounging if he hadn’t looked closer. The angel’s body was rigid. Arms tense, face set. For all intents and purposes, Castiel was sunbathing, which he needed to do, considering how wet he was, but the angel’s entire demeanor was somber.

_He doesn’t think I’m coming back._

Another paging buzz comes through the intercom.

“I’m coming back. I promise.” Dean tries to comfort the angel, but Castiel turns his head away from Dean and doesn’t look at him as he exits the habitat.

What he would give to know what was going through that angel’s mind.

He steps through the door with the full intention of coming back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who has carpal tunnel?
> 
> So, yeah, it's been pretty painful to type the last few days, but I've been wearing a brace at night and I didn't have work today (yay! day off!). So, I busted out another few hundred words and called it a chapter.
> 
> Sorry about the late update. In addition to attempting to use speech-to-text software (spoiler: it works alright, but interrupts one's train of thought by having to speak the punctuation), I got super excited about the second half of the chapter and wrote the ending instead. 
> 
> Bad thing: this chapter took longer  
> Good thing: next chapter is already half written
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me! :)

_This… This must be what heaven is._ Dean sighed around his burger. It was his second. The first one had been so good and it wasn’t like he didn’t have room for it… except… 

“Dude, there is no way you’re going to be able to finish that.” Another straggler in the cafeteria heckled. 

“I totally can. Watch me.” Dean took another bite, it was good, but his jaws were sore and his stomach was protesting.

After a few more minutes, a lady strode up to Dean, dumped a Styrofoam to-go container in front of him and said, “Stop embarrassing yourself.”

Before Dean could protest, she had already turned tail and marched away.

Trying not to make eye contact with any of the other temporary inhabitants of the cafeteria, Dean packed up the remnants of his burger, cleared his place, and made his way back down to the solitary habitat.

It was a bit of a walk and he was still finding his way around, but it was starting to look familiar.

There was a wing, no pun intended, for medical examinations and procedures. A large laboratory for examining and testing blood and… things. He didn’t really know; he’s a behaviorist, not a microbiologist. 

There was even a morgue, that Dean had heard about. Which was kind of creepy to think about. They said they liked to keep at least one cadaver around for research and reference.

Dean had seen a preserved angel specimen before. They looked incredibly majestic. Innocent. Harmless. 

When Dean finally finds the solitary habitat that Castiel is being kept in, he realizes that he can’t get in by himself. 

Pulling out his phone, he makes a quick call and someone says they’ll be on their way shortly. At least his bag is still here, from where the last guy dumped it before hauling Dean off to show him the commons, cafeteria, and, by everything holy, where the bathrooms were.

Dean sighs looking out into the sanctuary, then frowns. He doesn’t see Castiel anywhere.

Although, that could be for the best, because that means that the angel has gotten up, that his wings are dried enough for him to lift them. 

He turns his back to the wall, sliding down it and sitting. Head thrown back and eyes closed, he sighs again.

He was worried about the angel. Not because he couldn’t see him, but because of the moods that he’s seen the angel get in.

Dean wondered about Castiel’s preferential treatment. He was different, that was for sure, but for the staff to go this out of their way to accommodate him. 

Although, they did have him in with the other angels. Just getting special treatment at meal times. And even that seemed like it took a bit to coax him in. 

Dean knew that angels were social creatures. He wondered about his angel's state of mind. After all, he hadn't had enough evidence to conclude something either way. He wanted to think that Castiel's behavior was due to something. Reflective of something. He wanted to see the creature happy. He didn't think that that was a bad thing. He thought every creature is your happiness comfort sense of belonging. Although, few people even have that, so... 

But Dean, Dean could make a difference. He was new, and he knew a bit, but he didn't know everything. Not about the creature, not about the system, not even about himself, really. But he did know what small actions can make a big difference. 

Isolation in angels hadn't been thoroughly studied. Usually, there were individuals that weren't accepted as much as others. But they tended to have their own minority groups, a group of outcasts. Or at least pairing off. Dean wasn't sure what happened to angels that got sick. They were similar to birds, or small herd animals, in that they didn't show signs of sickness until it was very difficult to treat. 

Or maybe he just hadn't scoured the scholarly articles and journals to reach every inch on every topic. Dean, himself, was expected to publish his own works. He was just glad it didn't have to be as long as his dissertation. 

He wasn't sure if he would be able to use Castiel for his research. After all, a sample size of one does not science make. 

He heard footsteps down the hallway coming towards him. 

_Freaking finally._ Dean thought, getting up. 

"Hey, man." Dean greeted. 

"Hey, sorry to keep you waiting." The man apologized. 

"No problem. Kind of like having an extra-long lunch." Dean joked. 

He didn't recognize the man, but there seemed to be new faces around every corner so he wasn't really surprised. He was sure that he'd know most of the people one day, but today was not that day.

“Dr. Garner told me to let you know that they have Castiel scheduled for an exam with Dr. Merriam in medical room six. It’s, “ He glances down at his watch, a digital one. “in just under an hour. I’ll probably be your escort there. Y’know, if I don’t get roped into something else.”

“Oh.” Dean wonders why they didn’t just page him, but he knew from working one too many side jobs that ‘workplace morale’ and coworker relations sometimes came before efficiency. Plus, the dude was already right here. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

“Ready to go in?” The man asked politely.

“Absolutely.” 

They both take their positions, Dean by the door, and the man by a small control panel.

As soon as the door opens, Dean walks in. From seemingly out of nowhere, Castiel jumps on him, licking his face and chirping.

A sharp voice comes from the door, “ _Castiel. Stop that._ ” He sounds pissed.

Castiel stills immediately, eyes frozen wide, he curls into himself subtly, as if he’s slowly trying to disappear. The cherub slowly starts to creep backwards off of Dean, before Dean takes the startled angel into an embrace, effectively ceasing any further retreat.

“C’mon, he wasn’t doing any wrong. He’s just excited to see me. Right, buddy?” Dean doesn’t know if it’s the man’s voice or Castiel’s reaction that has him upset, but what he doesn’t expect was for his own words to draw such a strong reaction.

Castiel is staring at Dean’s cheek, making no move to make eye contact, not responding to the question. But then his lips start quivering, he looks like he’s fighting with himself, trying not to cry.

“He knows better!” The man sounds exasperated. “He’s been trained better.”

That breaks Castiel, tears flowing with a sob, burying his face in Dean’s neck.

“Lay off, man. He’s not…” Dean pauses and huffs. He wants to say that Castiel isn’t an animal. But… he _is_. Dean strokes the cherub’s hair, trying to calm him.

“Just- could you step out? I’ll call you in a while. When he’s ready. Okay?” He’s trying to be diplomatic about it. He doesn’t need unnecessary enemies. 

“He’s already got you wrapped around his little finger.” The man chides, “Yeah, whatever.” And he’s gone.

Dean strokes Castiel’s hair, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay.” He murmurs. “He’s gone now. It’s just you and me.” This just makes the angel cry harder, gripping tightly onto him.

After a few moments, Castiel pulls back looking at Dean carefully, thoughtfully. He slowly reaches a hand up to Dean’s face, caressing his cheek, feeling the stubble on his jaw. 

Dean isn’t quite sure what to make of the behavior.

The expression on Castiel’s face was… nostalgic. Reverent. 

The cherub tilts his head, considering. Fingers make their way up, tracing Dean’s cheek bones.

Dean closes his eyes on instinct, to protect his eyes. He doesn’t want to accidently get poked in the eye.

The fingers roam all over his face. Down the bridge of his nose, tracing the lines on his forehead, but the cynosure of the angel’s attention is on his cheeks. Both hands cupping his jaw, while thumbs rub circles on his cheeks. Fingers massage his jaw. It’s quite relaxing and unexpected from an angel.

One, to know that it would feel good on someone else, if that was Castiel’s intent beyond feeling up his face. And two, that he wasn’t pressing too hard. 

The strength of angels has long been admired, by the public and science communities alike.

He wonders if Castiel is trying to imitate the patterns and ministrations that Dean preformed on him earlier that very day. He briefly humors himself with the thought that the cherub is trying to make him purr, and is just trying to figure out how.

When the angel’s fingers have stopped moving for a few moments, he opens his eyes. Castiel’s eyes are closed and their faces are getting closer. Dean thinks for a moment that the angel is going to kiss him. Before he has a chance to pull back, the angel hits his mark.

 _Well… This_ could _be defined as a kiss._ Dean muses.

He’s reaching.

He knows it.

The cherub is rubbing his nose against Dean’s. It’s an Eskimo kiss. 

Breathing in. Sighing out. The movements are slow, languid. 

The angel noses across his cheek, into his hair above his ear; it kind of tickles.

There are hands on his shoulders, pressing down. He thinks that Castiel might be standing on his tip toes to reach this high. 

He noticed from over the cherub’s shoulder, that Castiel’s feathers were still fluffed up. Some of them half-hazardously skewed to the side. He wondered if Castiel had even attempted to flatten them back down or just rolled around on the ground to press the feathers back.

Technically, the feathers should be attached to the skin, and therefore by tightening the skin, or the muscles they are attached to, the feathers would be pulled up into their fluffed position. By relaxing the muscle, and thereby the skin, the feathers should flatten back down. Perhaps due to Dean’s intervention with manual fluffing, the feathers were no longer able to be relaxed and had to be manually settled back down.

In conclusion, it’s Dean’s fault and now he has to fix it.

He sighs to himself, hopeful that Castiel won’t fight him on touching his wings again. After all, a one-time invitation to touch another’s wings did not automatically qualify him for interminable access. 

For example, just because you let a masseuse give you a massage, doesn’t mean that they can walk up to you on the street and start grabbing at you. It’s trust. A collection of interactions that were filled with enough good to outweigh the bad.

“Castiel.” Dean calls quietly. He doesn’t need to speak loudly; the angel is right there. 

But the cherub doesn’t seem to notice, because he keeps rubbing the side of his head against Dean’s. Temple to temple.

Dean reaches up a hand to get the angel’s attention. As soon as his fingers touch the cherub’s cheek, Castiel turns his head, letting the fingers graze from his cheek to his lips.

After a quick sniff, the fingers are swiftly under attention by the angel’s tongue. 

_Well, that wasn’t really my intention…_

However, the cherub seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit. Cooing and humming as he licked Dean’s fingers clean. Clean from…

“Can you taste that?” He said it mostly to himself, but the angel was half nodding, half rubbing his temple into Dean’s wrist.

“So, I guess you like burgers…” He knew the angel wasn’t acutely fond of meat, but if he liked it…

When it seemed like the angel had licked every inch of Dean’s hand, he raised the other, to which Castiel immediately latched onto. Ecstatic to have a fresh source of the particularly pleasing taste.

The cherub’s tongue was warm. His ministrations quick, clean, and thorough. 

The process felt intimate. The angel had one hand still wrapped around Dean’s waist and the other lightly encircled around Dean’s left wrist. His head was curled against his chest, head curled down. He could barely see what the angel was doing, but he could feel it perfectly fine, so it wasn’t like he didn’t know what was happening.

As the cherub slowed down, going back over places he’d already passed over, he would rub his head in slow short passes on Dean’s chest.

“Castiel.” Dean tried again.

The angel let out a drawled, guttural purr in response.

“Could I touch your wings again?” The angel stiffened slightly, actions becoming stilled, shorter, but still continued rubbing his temple up and down against Dean’s sternum. “Just to get them to lay flat.” Dean amended.

The angel whined, short and distressed.

Dean sighed lightly, bringing a hand to brush the cherub’s hair. “Just to get them straight. So they don’t hurt so much.”

The angel butted his forehead against Dean’s sternum, letting out another high whine. Dean thought that it was useless, that maybe he should just let it go, but Castiel took his hand and led it over to his shoulder.

Dean moved his hand gradually, giving Castiel plenty of time to stop or correct him, if he had misread the angel’s intentions. Still no move was made to deter him, so he let his finger graze over the scapulars, petting them down slowly and consciously gentle. 

The cherub leaned so heavily against him that he took a step back, letting his back press against the wall of the habitat.

He caressed the feathers, in smooth downward motions, keeping the movement slow and refraining from carding his fingers into the plumage. The feathers were softer than before. Not that Dean could truly compare them, as he had only felt them when they were wet previously.

They were less grey now. Darker, but some feathers, those particularly in the folds of the wings, in the wrists and elbow of the wing, were still covered in the white powder of the pulviplumes. Castiel would need an extensive cleaning in order to see the true color of his wings.

The angel had turned his head to the side, pressing his cheek into Dean’s chest. Ear to his heart. The cherub’s eyes were closed, mouth slightly parted, breathing deeply and consistently. 

Every once in a while, if Dean brushed over a badly kinked feather, the angel’s eyebrows would scrunch together. But after a few more passes of his hands, the feather would fall mostly back in line and the tension in the cherub’s face would relax once more.

It was soothing, soothing in a way Dean hadn’t expected it to be. He’d never been much of a cat person, but this was along the lines of the calming, blissful feeling described to him by others, of what petting a cat felt like.

The warmth alone, radiating from the angel, felt like a blanket wrapped around him. The softness under his fingers, was akin to running his fingers across well-worn cotton. And the fact that the angel _liked_ it, well that just made Dean want to keep doing it. He knew that _he_ was the cause of the angel’s contentedness, and that the angel was the cause of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this kind of mellow, relaxed scenes make me sleepy and warm inside. It's nice to write.
> 
> Good news! I've already got a thousand words of the next chapter written! Time to get technical! ;)
> 
> Random thing that I really, really wanted to say at the end of the last chapter: Look at that herring, what a lovely shade of red it is.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a while. 
> 
> Also, I've already written the next chapter, so I'll post that in a couple days.

Dean felt somnolent, back pressed against the wall, the angel heavy on his chest. It was like having a pet. Someone who cared for him no matter what. Dean had never had a pet. 

He’d always been on the move, or didn’t have time. But this is what he imagined it would be like. Quiet moments. No words. No cares. Nothing pressing. Just being together, enjoying each other’s silent company.

He runs his hand through Castiel’s wings silky plumage.

His hand was covered in feather dust, but he didn’t really care. He couldn’t really feel the cherub’s wings anymore; he had run his hands over them so many times. But he kept pulling his hand back up, thinking that it might be the last time and that it would be alright if he stopped. But then, he puts his hand back on the plumage and can’t help, but to stroke down them again and again.

The cherub in his lap purred. Eyes fluttering like he was trying to keep them open, but couldn’t. A hand was pawing at Dean’s leg, as it had been for the last twenty minutes. Nails sliding harmlessly along Dean’s jeans as the angel’s hand kneaded into the material.

He liked seeing the angel so relaxed. 

His musings were interrupted by the sound of the intercom clicking on with a burst of static.

A stranger’s voice directed them it was time for their appointment and would be opening the door.

The somnolent nature Castiel had displayed before was now gone. Slow moving, but it was of reluctance, rather than lethargy. 

The hood went on. The collar went on.

A single hand was fisted into Dean’s shirt, breath only picking up a hair.

_Better than last time._ Dean thought, grateful, but curious.

\------------------- 

The trip to the examination room was uneventful. Although, pretty sure the ‘escort’ was new. Or dumb. Or really dumb.

Dean swears they walked past the room that the guy said was the right one a few times before actually being told it was that room. Whatever.

Castiel was… better that he was the last time he was transferred. The angel had managed to walk part of the way, but the creature had walked so closely Dean stumbled a few times. So, he scooped up the angel, like one would carry a child.

The cherub’s mouth had popped open in surprise, before settling back down into stiff line. A hand clutched his shoulder, while the other trailed up his neck, a thumb rubbing against the stubble on his cheek causing the angel to breaking into a small, sheepish, relaxed smile. 

Dean smiled back.

\------------------- 

No sooner had Dean and Castiel entered the examination room, had the doctor whipped out a stethoscope from a drawer and laced it around his neck.

“You’re Castiel’s new handler, right?”

_Right down to business, apparently._ “Yeah. I guess so.” Dean tried to play it off with a light-hearted chuckle and shrug of a shoulder.

“Alright. In this office, that means that you are responsible for getting him to do what I need him to do. And in a timely fashion.”

Dean nodded. This guy didn’t seem to like Castiel very much. Like the entire thing was an inconvenience. 

The room looked like a normal doctor’s office. There was an examination table, that looked like it had two concave divots for wings to settle into.

“Have him stand on this.” Dr. Merriam gestured to a small scale, after the mask and collar had been taken off.

Dean guided Castiel over to it, the angel stopped in front of the scale platform. He picked up a foot and gently, slowly shifted some weight into it. 

“Back to the wall.” It already sounded like Dr. Merriam was getting frustrated with Castiel’s pace.

Dean put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders and twisted his around, pressing him as gently, but efficiently as possible. The angel was malleable under his touch, going wherever Dean led him. 

The doctor scribbled down the angel’s weight before Dean could see it, before bringing down a height rod. The cherub ducked his head, cowering his shoulders, and looking up at the rod like it was going to fall on him. He didn’t look particularly afraid or upset, just distrustful.

“Have him stand up straight. Looking forward.” The doctor ordered.

Dean paused, waiting for Castiel to do it by himself. He knew the angel understood what was being said, but there was this spacey look on the angel’s face, like he wasn’t paying attention.

After no moves were made by the creature, Dean took the angel by the chin so he was facing forward, lifting until he stood straight. Dr. Merriam jotted down the numbers and strode over to the other side of the room.

“Bring him over here. Sitting.”

Settling Castiel onto the examination table, the doctor clipped a little pulse oximeter onto his finger, before plopping down into a wheelie chair.

Grabbing an otoscope from a drawer, putting a plastic cap over the top, the doctor placed the tip of the instrument in one ear, made a grunt, wheeled to the other side and repeated. However, this time, he pushed a button and waited until the otoscope made a beep. Afterwards, the doctor shucked the plastic cap in the trash and replaced the otoscope in the drawer in a charging station.

“Temp looks good.” Dr. Merriam mumbled to himself, jotting down notes. “Ear canal look clean. No sign of infection or buildup.”

He grabs a sphygmomanometer, or a blood pressure cuff, and straps it onto the angel’s arm with Velcro. Placing the ear pieces of the stethoscope in his ears and the chestpiece in the crook of Castiel’s elbow, he pumps up the cuff. Slowly releasing the air, the doctor scribbles down the result. Grabbing the pulse oximeter off Castiel’s finger, he read it, wheeled back to his desk.

“Heart rate is 146. About what we would expect. The larger the specimen, the lower the heart rate. So, angels are just a little higher than humans.”

Dean stared at the doctor for a moment, as the doctor wrote the bpm, then flitted off to the next thing. _Had he just heard what he said?_ Angels were _bigger_ than humans, not smaller. Therefore, the heart rate should be lower.

He thinks over the texts that he’s read. Angels, on average, were smaller than humans in _height_ , but due to the extra appendages they had a larger circulatory system.

The _reason_ there was an inverse relationship was usually due to the longer amount of time it took to reach the extremities, but in birds particularly, they needed blood to pump fast enough to keep their muscles oxidized. It was higher for angels because with hearts about the same size as humans, they needed to power two huge calorie-sucking wings. More veins to fill, more blood to pump, same size heart, _that’s_ why the heart rate was higher.

Dean let it off as a ‘I’ve been in this profession for so long that I forgot a basic principle of science’ thing. This phenomenon was also colloquially known as a brain fart.

Besides, that wasn’t even touching on how high angel’s heart rates could get when they were flying. It was truly ridiculous. They could get upwards of 600 bpm. Although, if you compare that to a hummingbird, whose _resting_ heart rate is roughly 610, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

There were numerous comparisons to birds with angels, but the odd fact was that they were mammals. Therefore, as many comparisons to birds were made, Chiroptera, or bats, were another order that angels were commonly compared to.

The doctor put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, pushing it forward, forcing the angel to lean over, causing his wings to separate from his back. He placed the stethoscope on the cherub’s back, changing places a few times before grinning.

“You ever heard a unidirectional flow before?”

“Well,” Dean started. He didn’t want to be rude, but he had gone to school and that was kind of a fundamental part of angel’s respiratory system. “Yeah. I mean, I learned about it in school.”

“No. Have you ever hear it before, for yourself, not a video?”

Dean paused, he was sure that he had seen videos of it. He’d seen diagrams explaining how half of an angel’s air sacs, the anterior or upper sacs, filled when they breathed in with the fresh air, while the used air filled the other half of the air sacs, the posterior or lower sacs. Then when the angel breaths out, the fresh air goes into the lungs, while the used air exits through the esophagus. 

It takes two full respiratory cycles, or an inhale and exhale of breath as a set, must be completed, for air to pass through all the way through the respiratory system.

It’s much more efficient than mammals bidirectional flow of air through the respiratory system. The bidirectional flow causes more ‘mixed air’ that contains less oxygen and outputs less carbon dioxide.

“No. I guess not.” Dean answered.

“Listen.” The doctor sounded excited. He kept a hand on the chestpiece, and one-handed took the eartips out of his ears in a practiced rocking motion. 

Dean took the stethoscope by the metal binaural and placed the eartips in his ears, after noting that the chestpiece was on the angel’s lower side.

When Castiel took a breath in, his rib cage expands and a rush of air could be heard. 

However, when he breathed out, a dual flow could be heard.

The angel breathed back in, and Dean could hear what he’d missed before. He could hear the breath in, while air moved out of what Dean knew where the lungs, into the anterior air sacks.

It sounded… noisy. Cluttered. Literally like two separate people breathing in sync. Like, waves pushing in on the shore, while another comes up, pushing over it. 

“That’s- that’s- wow.” Was all Dean could manage. “Thank you.” He meant it, while the experience was odd, it was no less valuable. 

The doctor snaps on some plastic gloves and begins prodding at Castiel’s face. He grabs a light, shining it in the angel’s eyes watching as they contract.

“Can you make him manually contract and dilate his eyes?” Dr. Merriam asks Dean intently. If Dean hadn’t known better, he would say the doctor was… excited.

“Uhh… I could try.” 

“Please. Do.” The doctor gestured ardently.

“Hey, Castiel. Can you make the pupil, the, uh, black part of your eyes bigger?” Nothing. “Or, um, think of something exciting?” Nothing.

Angels had been seen, taped on video, that they were able to flare and contract their pupils at will.

But Castiel just stared, eyes glazed over, like he wasn’t really there, like he couldn’t really see Dean.

“Uh.” Dean glanced back at the doctor. He didn’t look amused. “Sorry. I don’t think-“

“Let’s do his keel next.” The doctor cut him off gruffly. He seemed to be talking to himself mostly, but Dean threaded an arm under Castiel’s waist. Pressing an arm into the small of his back, forcing him to arch.

The examiner took a tape measure and threaded it under the angel, wrapping it around Castiel’s chest. 

“His keel measurement is a quite low on the ratio side for his height.” Dr. Merriam tutted. “I recommend increasing his food intake, particularly with protein.” He scribbled down some notes.

A few more minutes of the doctor poking around, mostly looking at Castiel’s nose and teeth, the latter of which the angel was most displeased with, he stood up, sending the wheelie chair back a few inches from the force.

“This way. We’re going to take some x-rays. I want to get one of each of the wings, two of the head, and three full scans.”  
Stepping across the room, through a door had them surrounded by equipment. 

“This is our x-ray room. Not very fancy, but it does what it’s supposed to.” The doctor was thorough, precise, and quick with his practiced movements. 

He grabbed a lead vest and moving slowly places it over Castiel’s head. It was like a bib, but had a large flap in the back that could go either left or right.

There was a triangular piece of hard foam that the doctor took and set on the bed.

The doctor directed his attention on Dean, “Have him lay face down on this block.”

Dean started to lead Castiel to the bed, but two tugs on his sleeve made him stop.

“Hey.” Dean said softly. He got close to Castiel’s face, blocking out the rest of the room, trying to crowd out the view from whatever, if there was something, was making his angel upset. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel replied with a high whine, biting his lips, pinching his eyebrows together in fear.

“Are you scared?” Dean whispered, raising both hands to rub circles on the cherub’s cheeks; that had always seemed to make the angel instantly purr. This time was no different, Castiel leaned into the touch, letting his eyes become lidded. 

He nodded slowly, using the movement to increase the pressure and friction with Dean’s hand.

“It won’t hurt.” Dean tried to explain, “You won’t feel anything. It’s just going to make noise and maybe move-“ His eyes flashed over to the doctor, who nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, move around for a little bit. Then it’ll be done. Plus, I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“Uhh… You can’t stay in here. You’ll be exposed to the rays.” The doctor tried to reason.

“And? So with he.” Dean retorted.

“I only have the one lead jacket. It’s not good to have prolonged-” The doctor denied.

“I’m the handler, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “So, my job is to get him,” Dean thumbed over to Castiel. “To do what you want him to.” He paused for effect. “ _This_ is how.”

The doctor rolled his head back, eyes lolling into the sockets in exasperation. “Fine. The track for the machine is here.” He gestures to one side of the bed. The arm of the machine arches high over the bed, where the x-ray component, the part that actually delivered and received the rays, was hanging. “Don’t get in the way of it.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“Yeah. No problem.” Dean replied, trying to air a sense of comradery, even though he wouldn’t mind telling the guy to cram it.

The doctor slipped into a viewing room, more a divider really, that held the controls for the x-ray.

The position the doctor wants Castiel in is an oblique prone position. The foam triangle supported most of Castiel’s weight, it’s the perfect angle that one wing laid on top of his body, while the other was nudged out slightly.

“Have him spread his wing out more.” Came a call from the controls.

Dean turns to Castiel. He knows the angel can’t really do that, can’t really spread his wings.

“Castiel.” Dean starts. “I’m going to position your wing, okay? I just need you to relax. Okay?”

The angel hummed in reply, which Dean took as the go ahead.

At first, he just pressed his fingers to the wing, lightly petting the feathers, getting Castiel used to the touch. The cherub was cautiously enjoying the attention, stiff, but eyes half-lidded.

Another hand slid under the wing, supporting it, lifting up ever so slightly. The angel whined but didn’t tense.

“I’m going to go slow. I’ll be really gentle.” Dean promised.

Castiel let out a long, high whine, followed by a short, low, guttural hum, as if to say, ‘Fine.’.

“I know. I know.”

Dean carefully pulled the wing towards him, a fraction of an inch at a time.

A pained gasp cut into the air.

“Shh, shhh. Sorry. I’ll stop.” Dean carefully set the wing down. It wasn’t extended that far, but it was better than before, for what it was worth.

“Is it okay where it is?”

A small nod.

“Can you- Do you think you can go any further?”

Tight shakes of the head accompanied slow, deep breathes like the angel was trying to power through the pain.

With any luck, the wing was far enough out, because if not… there really wasn’t anything that could be done.

“Is that good?” Dean called to the doctor, with reserved hope.

“I need it out a little further than that!” Came the call back.

“Umm, I think this is as far as he can go!”

“What?” Loud steps came stomping out of the command room up to Dean. “What do you mean, just take it and pull it out further.”

“It’s just- he can’t-“

“Here. Let me show you.” Dr. Merriam went around Dean, heading towards the angel.

Dean cut the doctor off, stopping his advance. “ _Don’t touch him._ ” Stiff and low, dragging out the warning. Dean was surprised by his own directness. “This is as good as it’s going to get.”

The doctor looked at him sideways, like he didn’t get something, before rolling his eyes and walking away.

“Get ready for the first scan! Tell me when you’re ready.” Dean could swear he hear the doctor mumble _Your Highness_ under his breath.

Dean currently had other priorities than a doctor he wasn’t sure when he would have to deal with again. Currently, he was unsure of how to stay in contact with the angel, without interfering with the machine’s movements. Then he decided that there was enough room on the bed for him to lay on it with Castiel.

Pressing himself snug against the cherub, Castiel wrapped his arms around the man, pulling him in closer. Dean huffed out a quiet chortle in amusement, wrapping his own arms around the angel as best he could without blocking the scanners view of Castiel’s wings.

“We’re all set!”

Without confirmation or warning, the machine made sudden, loud whirling noises. The cherub jerked and grabbed onto Dean harder, fisting a hand in Dean’s shirt.

Dean could feel the creature’s heartbeat, pumping furiously in his chest.

“Shhhhh. You’re alright. I’ve got you. You’re doing great. It’s almost over. It doesn’t even touch you, see? You’re doing so well.” He murmured to the cherub, watching the angel slowly relax, placing more and more trust in Dean. “Oh, look at that, it’s already over.”

The cherub looked at him with big eyes, blinking thoughtfully, as if thinking, ‘Is that it?’.

“Okay. Other side!” Doctor Merriam called, staying behind the divider.

Dean nudged the wing back against Castiel’s back, flipped the lead vest to the other side and repositioned the foam triangle for Castiel to lay on his other side. Dean coaxed the wing out as much as he could before giving the go ahead to the doctor.

Castiel still jumped at the click and whirling of the machine starting, but quickly relaxed back to an attentive focus on Dean. Entranced by his words, staring, with Dean as his cynosure. Dean stared back, speaking soothing words and almost too quickly, the scan was complete.

The doctor came back in, shooing Dean and Castiel off of the bed. Quickly took out two blocks of the bed that created slots for Castiel’s wings to slide into, effectively hiding them from the scan.

Settling Castiel into position, Dean sat at the head of the bed, stroking his fingers through the angel’s plumage. He had to stop a few times because the cherub kept falling out of position, letting his head loll to the side in contentment.

The other two body scans went as well. Though Dean could not be in contact with the cherub, he was in line of sight and spoke soft praise that the angel soaked up.

The head scans weren’t so bad, either. Dean could sit next to the cherub’s feet and hold his hand while the machine whirled around. The angel whined at first, squeezing Dean’s hand. He squeezed back. Rubbing a thumb over the back of Castiel’s hand, murmuring how good he was doing and that he only needed to be still for a little while longer.

And then it was done.

Dr. Merriam was absorbed in scribbling down this and that, slowly leading the way back to the exam room. Sitting down at the counter in his wheelie chair, he glanced up at Dean and Castiel before recommencing taking notes. 

“A copy of the x-rays will be sent to you tomorrow if you wish to review it.” Dr. Merriam’s eyes flicking up, over the papers he was crowded around.

Dean nodded in confirmation, but added a, “Uh, yes. Please.” Just to be clear.

\------------------- 

“You did so good. You were so good for me.” Dean praised, rubbing circles in the angel’s cheeks. Purrs vibrated into his hands, the deep rolling emanating from the creature’s chest.

“You were so brave. Did everything I asked you to. You were so good.”

The angel loved it. The words relaxing muscles like a drug, slumped over and limp like a rag doll. The look of bliss practically glowed on the cherub’s face.

He hated that he had to leave. It was relaxing, calming, being with Castiel. It filled something in Dean, something that he hadn’t even know was empty. 

He _wanted_ to take care of Castiel. He was _needed_. He was _wanted_. And that’s all he could ever ask for.

Saying goodbye was hard, but sure promises that he would be back the next morning seemed to reassure the cherub. 

He left the over-shirt he had worn that day with Castiel. Which hopefully would comfort the angel until he got back.

Feeling good, Dean took off, excited to see what tomorrow would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I just watched Pokemon 4ever, so you can blame the last line on that.
> 
> Also, please comment because I'm running out of meth. (That doesn't even make sense, but just, pretend it's funny or something.) And if something doesn't make sense or you see a mistake, just let me know.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope your pillow is just the right amount of fluffiness tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have anything to say without immensely oversharing. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter in End Notes.

When Dean walks into work the next day, there was no one there to greet him. Assumedly, he was just supposed to go straight to Castiel’s room in solitary.

However, when he arrived, there was no one to let him in and no Castiel. Even when he knocks gently on the glass.

Dean checked his phone. _Yup. On time._

He wonders down, looking for Dr. Garner’s office. He hears the yelling before he sees that the door is open.

“I don’t care it’s against policy. Months! _Months_ of work, you could’ve of undone! Probably did!” A voice booms.

“I did what I needed to! The damage would have been much worse if I hadn’t. If you had your way he’d probably be-“

“Hey.” Dean interrupts uneasily, hand knocking uselessly, barely tapping the wood. The two occupants of the room whip around. A blonde woman and Dr. Garner. They’re both a little red in the face. “What’s going on?”

It’s probably none of his business. Then again, he is getting paid to make angels his business. And he’s pretty sure his boss wouldn’t mind paging someone to let him in to do his job. I mean, they have a budget to keep to and stuff.

“Dean.” It’s Dr. Garner. “Um.” He rubs his face, covering his eyes. His hand slides down his face, resting on his mouth, eyes downwards, collecting his thoughts. After, taking a deep breath and sighing it out, he flicks his eyes up to Dean briefly before glancing off to the side.

“Dean.” He starts again. “Last night, after you left. We kept a close eye on Castiel, just to make sure he would be okay.”

“Okay.” Dean replied slowly. This wasn’t anything that he didn’t know. He had his phone on, just in case they needed to reach him, but he hadn’t gotten a call last night. 

“And he was.” Dr. Garner added hastily, before licking his lips and added. “But after a few hours, he started to,” He waved his hand in the air, looking for the words. “Make some noises.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. That didn’t really clear anything up.

“The observer,” Dr. Garner’s eyes flicked to the blonde woman. “Thought that he had gone to sleep. However, after some time there were… noises. The observer went to see if Castiel was okay and um…”

Dr. Garner spoke slowly. Cautiously. Choosing his words carefully, trying to say what needed to be said delicately. Politically correct. The words came one or two at a time, with pauses in between. Eyes trained on Dean, wincing as he said them, like he knew they would hurt. “He, um. He, he was pulling out his feathers.”

“What?! _Why?_ ” Dean’s eyes went wide. His thoughts were everywhere. How bad was it? Is he okay? And why? Why, when he seemed to be doing fine yesterday. Fine when Dean left. He thought that the angel would be okay. That it would be alright. 

But the angel wasn’t fine. He wasn’t okay. He wasn’t alright. And… And it was Dean’s fault. He knew he should have stayed.

“We think he had a panic attack.”

“And?”

“Well, Barbra here,” He gestures to the blonde woman next to him, “was-“

“I was the supervisor last night.” She interrupted the doctor “And I _did_ what _needed_ to be done in order to stop Castiel from further damaging himself.” She addressed Dr. Garner more than she did Dean. A hand on her hip and a finger in the air to emphasize her point.

“Which was?”

“She tranq-ed him.”

Dean took a breath. It wasn’t anything unexpected, but the fury inside of him felt insidious, arcane, intimate. Raw.

Besides the bubbling hatred towards this woman, he knew that Castiel was probably fine. But it felt like a slap in the face, a betrayal. 

“Is he okay?”

Barbra looked at him, features tight, confident, but reluctant.

“Is. He. _Okay?_ ” Dean repeated, more forcefully.

“Physically, he has inflicted quite a bit of damage. Mentally—“ She shakes her head, sighing. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen an angel behave like that before.” She finishes with a hopeless shrug and a remorseful look.

“Where is he?” Dean demands.

He shouldn’t be doing this. Being so disrespectful. He’ll regret it, he’s regretted it too many times before. But his temper—He’s at his edge. Panic, adrenaline is rushing through him. His fingers are shaking. Hands tremoring. His focus is on the angel. Where is he? 

“Room 105.”

 

\-------------------- 

 

When he sees the angel, his eyes are closed. Taking huffed shallow breaths. Chest rising and falling tightly. Straps tie down the angel’s wrists, ankles, shoulders, and hips. 

He shuts the door quietly before making his presence known.

“Hey.”

The cherub cracks his eyes open and twitches his head towards Dean. The still red eyes crumple into tears as sobs wrack through the exhausted angel’s body.

“Oh, Sweetie.” It’s something his mom would say. The cherub just looks so small, so hurt. His entire body lax from enervation, all of his energy gone, the sedative probably still in his body.

“Shhhh. What’s wrong?” Dean asks as he crosses the room.

The angel’s lips parted, jaw opening just slightly, slowly. Until the cherub abruptly stopped, face crumpling into tears again. A _whine_ shook by sobs and hitched breaths as the angel let his entire body go lax. Letting his head roll back.

Then he turned away. Away from Dean.

Dean took the few steps forward to reach Castiel’s side, but when Dean touched his arm lightly to comfort him, the creature jumped, flinching away, more sobs breaking out of the poor angel. 

“Sorry.” Dean whispered, hushed and harsher than he meant to.

The cherub looked at him. Desperate, confused, hopeless.

Scared.

“Sweetie? Can I touch you? Is that okay?” Dean asked, keeping is voice low and as comforting as he could manage. 

Before, it seemed like the cherub could never get enough skin, always wanting to be connected. Purring gratefully as Dean carded his hand through his hair. Whining when he stopping rubbing his cheeks. Butting his head against Dean whenever the angel wanted.

But now… Now the creature looks terrified, turning his head as quickly as he can from side to side with the trace amount of paralytics still in his body. 

_Shit._ Had he done something? Could he of done something more?

“Do you want me—Can I sit here? For a while?” Dean asked carefully.

The cherub’s face contorted in pain. Mouth pressed into a thin line. Chest wavering, pulsating up and down like his heart is pounding, pushing against the impervious ribs, trapping it inside like a cage.

The angel makes a non-committal sound. Half-way between a grunt and a huff.

“I’ll just… go then.”

Dean turned to leave, but the rattling of metal drew his attention. 

The angel’s eyes were drawn shut, blocking out the rest of the room. Jaw clamped forcefully to the point it looked painful. Hands were clenched so tightly, they were white, but—

“Castiel, stop!”

Dean grabs the angel’s hand and pries it open, just to see blood smeared on the inside of the palm.

“Castiel.” Dean shakes his head. “ _Why?_ ”

When no response comes, Dean reaches out a hand and cups the angel’s face. A piercing, heartbreaking shriek makes Dean want to clutch his heart as much as it makes him want to cover his ears.

The cherub’s eyes instantly become blinded by tears, but the look of betrayal is still clear. 

The sinking, weighing pressure on Dean’s heart _hurts_. Still, he rips his hand back like it burnt.

“Castiel. _Please._ Why—” Dean’s not sure he can me himself ask the question. “Why are you doing this? Why did you hurt yourself?”

No reply come, but for the squeezing of his hand.

Dean squeezed back.

 

\-------------------- 

 

Dean held the angel’s hand for a long time. Waiting for the creature’s breath and heart rate to come down. 

“I heard you got scared.” Dean started, glancing at the angel to see his reaction.

Castiel looked at him through exhausted, drooping eyelids, the confused expression barely manifested, as if the effort of emotion was too tiring for the angel.

“Maybe not scared. Maybe you were…” Dean searched for the words. “Worried?”

The angel closed his eyes, neither confirming nor denying the statement.

Dean’s lips pressed into a tight, straight line. Finger pads playing with the soft sides of the cherub’s fingers, rubbing up and down the delicate digits. A thought entered Dean’s mind. One of those thoughts that stick. That strike as odd when thought, but then can’t be shaken off. Dean only knew so much. He only knew so much about Castiel. He only knew so much about himself. But some things… Some things are worth facing the unknown.

“I wouldn’t leave you, you know.”

Castiel turned and looked at him, expressionless save for exhaustion.

“Unless—“ Dean wetted his lips. “Unless you wanted me to.”

The hand in his gripped down _hard_. A flick of the eyes up to Castiel had Dean beholding the cherub shaking his head the most minutely way from side to side.

“You want me to stay?”

The angel’s eyes drooped shut as he let his head sink forward. 

The small, sleepy nod, the only indication that the cherub did, in fact, want him there, was enough.

“Then I’ll stay.” Dean promised. “I’ll stay.”

The grip on Dean’s hand didn’t loosen.

_I’ll stay._

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

Eyebrows knit together, mouth twisted into a tight, pained smile and a huff of laughter escaped from the cherub.

_God, I wish I knew what he was thinking. What was going on inside his mind?_

The angel looked so torn. Perhaps, this was the breaking point. All leading up to this.

Then again, he never really knew why Castiel like him in the first place. Maybe… maybe he didn’t want him around anymore, but didn’t know how to shake him off. Dean knew that he’d been pushing Castiel to his limits. Maybe he’d pushed too hard.

But… he only wanted what was best, he only wanted… What _did_ he want? Looking at the angel, tear stains down his face, apathetic from enervation. Not this. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to look at Castiel and see this much pain.

“Castiel.” Dean rasped out, unaware of how close to the edge of crying he was. The angel looked over at him, tight and reserved, stiff like Dean was going to hit him. “Castiel. _Please._ You gotta help me.” A tear escaped before he could wipe it away. “I can go or I can stay, but I need to know what I can do for you.” Dean shook his head. “What do you need?”

Castiel met his eyes, searching them passively for guile intentions. Dean stared back, trying to convey his sincerity, his candor.

The angel’s eyes dropped to his restraints, flicking up and down between them and Dean, tugging, trying to make his point clear.

“You want those off?”

Castiel nods phlegmatically.

Dean hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take them off. It’s just…

“Are you going to hurt yourself again?”

The cherub looked remorseful, chastised, but shook his low-hung head.

Dean exhaled, wondering if he was becoming a pushover.

“You promise?”

The slightest trace of a smile came to Castiel’s lips as he nodded in confirmation.

Dean unbuckled each of the straps, gently rubbing the areas that were red, until the cherub was free. Castiel raised his arms, rubbing his eyes, smudging the tear stains on his cheeks.

The angel curled into himself, crossing his arms over his chest, shielding himself. He looked at Dean, as if debating something. Torn between two choices. His chest heaved, breath deep and heavy, pulled in indecision. 

After a minute, Dean sat down, giving the creature as much time as he needed.

Dean wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Countless expressions crossed over the angel’s face. Contemplation. A little side smirk. Devastation. Confusion. 

After what seemed like forever, Castiel shifted and sat up, eyes locked on Dean.

The angel moved slowly. Maybe not to startle Dean, or maybe because he was just that drained.

Closer and closer the angel crept, until he was sitting astride Dean’s lap with a hand on each shoulder. He gradually lowered his head until his forehead was flush with Dean’s neck. He took in a deep breath, just breathing in Dean’s scent. Rubbing his nose into the sensitive skin, making Dean fight a shudder. 

The cherub’s warm breath skimmed across Dean’s skin. Dean brought his arms around the angel, bringing him in closer. Sniffing and nosing at Dean’s neck. Growing more assured, Castiel raised a hand from Dean’s shoulder to his neck, stroking up and down the side of it, massaging circles in the back. 

Dean could hear the angel’s breath, calming, slow, deep, even. It was dragging him down into his own form of peace, of sanctuary. 

He held the cherub tightly, letting out a breath of relief, of having Castiel back. Dean didn’t know how to describe even the short amount of time that the privilege of using a comforting touch was taken away, how much that hurt him, and how much it hurt Castiel.

He caressed the angel’s hair, smiling, feeling some of the heaviness lift away, as the cherub readjusted, pressing himself more tightly against Dean. _God._ He was so warm. He never wanted Castiel to look that defeated, that broken, that lost, ever, _ever_ again.

“For as long as you need me. I promise.” Dean whispered.

_I’ll stay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Self-harm as a coping mechanism for watching Dean's fine tuckus walk away (I know, it's hard baby), self-harm due to a panic attack, also non-descriptive blood.
> 
> Also, next chapter is kind of plot-y. So, I’m using the sandwich method: cuddles, plot, cuddles. ;)
> 
> If you liked this chapter leave a comment below.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that many of you have been waiting for (for what happens at the very end). *deep breath* I hope you like it!

A research assistant popped his head into the exam room. “Hey. I have some food for you guys.”

Dean looks up at the man gratefully. The warm weight on his chest didn’t stir at the movement or noise.

“Come on in.” Dean whispers. Well, a projected whisper. With a head gesture beckoning the man over.

Thankfully, he gets it.

The RA shuts the door gently behind him. Crossing the room slowly, making quiet, short steps.

“Is he asleep?” The words sound fond, like someone looking at a baby animal. Which, Dean surmises, is a possibility. 

Some people wanted angels as pets, which, go figure, is a _bad_ idea. Also, illegal. Still, extraordinarily richie-rich people found a way around the law. Front page stories headlined multiple times for finding captive angels after their secretive owners passed away.

They _all_ looked young. Frozen in time. Some had died a few days after capture. Others for decades with no sign of physical or mental deterioration. There was a reason that so many were interested in studying them. Angels were _fascinating_.

“Yeah, I think so.” Dean quirks a grin down at the angel.

They’re leaning- well, _Dean_ is leaning, against some cupboards. The angel sat astride Dean’s crossed legs, half-pressed half-slouched against him. The cherub’s cheek was mushed against Dean’s collarbone.

“He’s so cute.” The RA huffed, almost as if that fact frustrated him. He gestured to the covered tray he was holding. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“Eh. Right here is fine.” Dean gestured to his side on the floor.

The RA sets it down, which Dean now realizes has a file and a plastic specimen container on top of it. They’re picked up as soon as the tray is stable on the ground. The RA remains crouched, an expression of awe cast over his features.

“Gosh, that is just… not fair.” He’s shaking his head slowly, staring down the sleeping angel on Dean’s chest.

Dean didn’t know what the RA was referring to. Castiel, obviously. But the sleeping? The aforementioned ‘cuteness’? The RA continues his professional duties after spending a few more moments gushing at the angel.

“I also have these from Dr. Merriam. He said that you wanted to see a copy. And I have a few samples that Mrs. Ivanov collected from… Castiel’s incident.” He trailed off awkwardly. Fidgeting with the file’s edges.

Dean inwardly winced at the words. ‘ _Incident._ ’ How polite.

“They’ve already been reviewed and documented, but your input is requested. Your report with any additional notes should be turned in tomorrow to Dr. Merriam.”

Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“So, I’ll just put these here, then.” The RA slid the file onto the counter above the cabinets Dean is leaning against. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything else I could get, maybe?”

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “No, I think I’m good. Thanks.”

“Alright, then. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.”

_Well, that was awkward._

Dean turned his attention to the covered tray by his side, deciding to see what aforementioned food was hidden inside.

He was surprised to see a division down the center of the tray. One half with a variety of fruits, and the other with a hamburger. Well, Dean’s no rocket surgeon, but he can figure this one out.

Dean rubs the angel’s side. “Castiel.” He murmurs. “It’s time to wake up.”

The creature groaned and curled into Dean further, tucking his face down, hiding away.

Dean chuckled at the sight, bringing up a hand to stroke through the angel’s hair. Immediately, the cathartic sound of purrs oscillated like a small motorboat over rocking waves.

“I have some food for you.” Dean enticed. The cherub had to be hungry.

Grumbles overthrew the purrs, before the angel butt his head into Dean’s hand, prompting it to move again.

“Well, okay then. _I am_ going to eat though.” No use in letting the burger go cold.

He picked up the burger with one hand, leaning awkwardly over as much as he could without displacing the creature on his lap.

He moaned into his burger. It wasn’t hot off the grill, but it was still warm. He fluttered his eyes open and took another famished bite, closing his eyes, letting his world be surrounded by flavor. 

When he opened his eyes, he felt a gaze on him. Castiel was staring at him out the corner of his eye, face still half buried against Dean’s chest. Eyes half-lidded, still half asleep, by no less entranced in wonder. Fascination. Longing.

Dean smiled down at the creature. “Hey, Cas.” 

The angel’s face immerged, mouth slightly agape. Tipping his head back, the creature lightly sniffed at Dean, and then at Dean’s burger. Staring down the burger, licking his lips, Castiel turned to Dean with the sweetest, saddest puppy dog eyes.

Dean just rolled his eyes. “You want some of this?”

The angel’s eyes locked onto the burger, while vacantly nodding his head yes.

Dean lowered the burger to the angel’s mouth, expecting the creature to take a bite out of it, but _oh no_. No. Castiel plucked it right from his hands and shoved half of the thing into his mouth. Chewing animatedly, letting out a little, contented moan of his own.

“You like hamburgers.” Dean deadpanned. Of course. _Of course_ , Castiel would love the burger. _Dean’s_ burger.

A funny trilled purr came. An arpeggiated quavering hum. It was higher than Castiel’s normal purr, in his throat rather than his chest.

“You really like that, huh?”

The angel paused while just before taking another bite. Looking at Dean and back at the burger, he hung his head in shame and handed Dean the remainder of the burger.

Dean silently chuckled, taking a bite of the burger in Castiel’s hands before gesturing for the angel to continue eating.

The creature looked slightly affronted. Perplexed and beside himself. A blush reached the cherub’s cheeks and a small, sheepish smile took over the worried expression. 

Castiel looked back at the burger and took a decidedly smaller bite than his first, offering Dean bites in between his.

 

* * *

 

The feathers that Castiel had pulled out had been a mixture of blood feathers and fully developed feathers.

Angels molted once a year, but it was a long, time heavy process. Drawing out for a few months. Only a few feathers shed at a time, mirrored across the wings. 

The symmetry was important. The identical molting of one to two feathers allowed the angels to still be able to fly. 

Dean twirled the feather between his fingers. That feather could have only been, at most, a year old.

There were stress bars _everywhere_.

Little lines that showed that the creature had been in so much distress that it impacted the feathers development. Malnutrition could cause the same, but…

Dean rolled the calamus, the hollow shaft, letting air fan onto his face. 

The _quality_ of Castiel’s feathers were… awful. Horrible on-the-line-of cruel.

Looking at the individual feathers, many of them had shorted or missing vanes, or the individual tendrils of the feather. While others looked as if someone had taken a lighter and melted parts of the feathers.

The color was hard to tell. Maybe that’s why it was hard for previous handlers to tell, Dean tried to reason out, but the disregard for Castiel’s well-being grated on him, like few things had ever before. It gnawed at him, knowing that the cherub had been miserable, had been tossed aside by so many before him.

It wasn’t just a mental impact either, whatever happened manifested _physically_. That’s not something that could just be shaken off.

Then there were the x-rays.

They looked… _fine_. Dean couldn’t explain it. Bone growth was all good, all normal. Certain spots looked like possible past fractures, but he couldn’t really tell. The print was too small and the scan covered a large area, making the quality lower than Dean could interpret.

_Well… positive side, at least that’s one less thing to worry about._

It also meant one less clue for Castiel’s lack of wing movement.

“Hey, Winchester!” Dean looked up. “The boss wants to see you in his office ASAP.”

Dean’s heart sank.

 

* * *

 

Dean hadn’t been in the executive office since his first interview for the job. But seeing Mr. Randell had his stomach in knots all over again.

If he was here, he was in trouble.

The man extended a formal greeting and invited Dean to sit in one of two plush leather chairs sitting on this side of the desk.

Without any further preamble, Mr. Randell addressed him, “Mr. Winchester, we are transferring Castiel to another facility.”

Dean’s heart stopped.

Would he see Castiel again? They had to know that Castiel was not in good shape even _with_ Dean around, but without him, he just could see the angel falling apart. And he had promised, he _promised_ , not to leave, to be there when the angel needed him. He had no intention of breaking that promise.

And his contract! He was signed on to be here for _at least_ six months, longer if he was a good fit for the company.

“I’m sorry, sir. _What?_ ”

“I know it seems sudden, but we’ve been considering it for a while now. Castiel just…” He waved his hand in the air, looking for the words. “He isn’t a good fit for this facility. The one we’re sending him to is a wonderful sanctuary. Very focused on rehabilitation and will offer Castiel an adequate period of convalescence. We just don’t have those kinds of resources at our disposal here. And honestly? The kind of research we’re doing here, Castiel just don’t fit the requirements.”

“I mean, um, _wow_. I’m just, yeah, um, _surprised_. Sorry.” Dean’s mind was scattered, yet blank. Thoughts being thrown around, but not making connections or making sense. _God._ What was he going to do?

“I understand. It’s a lot to take in.” Mr. Randell smiled sincerely. “The transfer day will be at the end of the week. I know this is short notice, but there’s already arrangements made so you don’t need to worry about anything. Everything is already taken care of.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded continually, trying to take in the information in stride. But every word the director said was being seared into his mind, his head throbbing like he’d been burnt.

“We would like you to spend the few days with Castiel getting him ready for transfer. I understand he has become quite attached to you.” Mr. Randell looked playfully accusing. 

“Yeah.” Still bobbing his head up and down, making more eye contact with the desk than his boss. He wetted his lips. “So then, what about after,” _God, he couldn’t breathe. Could he even say it?_ “After Castiel is transferred.” His hands were shaking. “What am I going to do?”

Mr. Randell looked at him oddly. “Pack up your things? Go? Make the world a better place?”

“Oh.” _Oh my god, they were firing him. They were firing him and booting Castiel to…_ “Where is he being transferred to?”

“It’s called Solarium Sanctuary.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. He’d heard of it. Everyone in the community had heard of it. Solarium was a nice sanctuary. Prestigious. _Slightly_ pretentious. At least, that was what he had heard. Castiel would be taken good care of there. 

They had lots of investors; people who were really into angels, mostly based on looks, which was why the clothing for the angels was different. They really liked the idea that angels belonged in white. It would look good on Castiel. The contrast between the black of his hair.

The Solarium was an oddity of research centers for the reason that the research was focused on abnormal behavior, diseases, and rehabilitation. 

Dean gripped the seat of the chair. Would he be allowed to visit if he wanted to? Which he wanted to, but the drive was quite a way away. 

“Who-“ Dean licked his lips, eyes lowered, too ashamed at what he had _obviously_ done wrong to look at his employer. “Who is going to take care of Castiel there? I mean, is someone already set up for him or-“

Mr. Randell quirked his head. "Mr. Winchester, I must apologize for the lack of clarity. You are Castiel’s intended caretaker. I called you in to notify you to prepare to move house. We have made arrangements with Solarium to accommodate you at their facility.” Mr. Randell paused. “That is, if you’re still interested?”

“Yes. Yes, oh my god. Yes. Of course, I am. Yeah.” Dean was practically panting as he sputters out the words. He knows he mouth is open, trying to breathe. Trying to take in more air, more life.

“My apologies. It was not my intention to mislead you. I understand that you must be quite fond of Castiel as well. The two of you were matched quite well, if the reports I’ve been given hold their merit.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just- _whew_. I… uh, I’m grateful to be able to still take care of Castiel. I don’t know what would happen if… You know. I don’t think he’d take that very well.”

Mr. Randell roared in a full body belly laugh. Racking his frame, making his chair squeak as he leaned back into it.

“That, Mr. Winchester, is an understatement.”

Dean let out a the slightest of chuckles, a quirk of the lip in the mockery of a smile, still not in the frame of mind to really be pleased, but overcome instead by a cathartic relief.

“What about my contract here?”

“Solarium bought it out.”

“Oh.”

“It’s more common than you would think. Granted, there is some paperwork that we will need you to go through. Certain release procedures, transferring criteria, and an admission proposal that must be reviewed and signed by you as Castiel official caretaker.”

Dean nodded, slowly in that bouncing, circular way that lends to itself. “Okay. Okay, what do I need to do?”

“At the moment? Nothing. I’ll send my assistant in with some of the paper work in a bit for you to get started on.”

“Okay.”

“Alright. Thank you for coming in. Please let me apologize again for the misunderstanding. Expect my assistant to be coming by before the end of the day.”

Extensions of thanks and handshakes were exchanged.

Everything seemed to be a blur. Dean’s heart was still pounding, unable to accept the correcting words that should have eased him of his perturbation.

But it didn’t.

He was still shaking. Shivers wracked his overheated body. Breaths still working too hard to make their way in, never enough to really fill his lungs, like they had shrunk.

Dean made his way back down the long maze of halls. Back to where he needed to be. Back to who he wanted to see. Back to-

 

* * *

 

“Castiel!”

The angel looks up to see Dean rushing towards him. Dean scooped the angel up in his arms and sighed hard.

“Sorry. Sorry. Just, please-just, let me hold you for a sec?” He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be rushing an angel. He shouldn’t be touching without permission.

Castiel clicks his approval, nestling into the warmth of the supporting arms.

The weight against him was grounding. Pressure anchoring him to the floor where he sat. It was real. He wasn’t going to float away. 

Dean’s breath is ragged, stuttered gasps as he has to open his mouth wider to get the same amount of air in.

“I just, _damn_ , I thought I was going to lose you.” His voice tightens until it breaks. Dean presses the angel tighter against him, the beginnings of tears pricking at his eyes.

The cherub chips in confusion, humming out a question, settling his cheek against Dean’s shoulder.

“I just-“ He swallows hard. He doesn’t know why he needs to keep talking. He needs to say these words. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to see you again and I had all of these thoughts running through my head.”

The cherub let out a panicked squeak, head bolting up. Hands gripping the front of Dean’s shirt tight.

“Don’t worry, Castiel.” Dean soothed, carding his hands through the angel’s hair. Gently pushing the angel back down to his shoulder, where he’s already missing the heat. The cherub slowly settles back down. 

“I’m not leaving you. And even if they said I had to leave you or couldn’t see you anymore, I wouldn’t let them. I would find a way. I would fight for you.”

The angel pulls back, which Dean is hesitant to loosen his grip, on the edge, caught up in the tendrils of fear of losing Castiel, but allows him enough slack to pull back to look at Dean. 

The sweetest look of adoration graced the cherub’s face, as he gazed at Dean wondering if the words were true.

Castiel brings a hand to cup Dean’s cheek, rubbing a thumb across the skin. Dean smiles at the creature

The angel brings their noses together, rubbing his against Dean’s. Both of their eyes slip shut, allowing the intimate closeness. 

Dean feels the creature shift away from him, but before he could find the words to protest, a soft press came against his lips.

As soon as it was there, it was gone.

A hushed tone came, whispered. “ _Thank you._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys have a great week and that it is the exact weather that you like. <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not live in California. Or really know that area well. So certain geographical things may not be accurate.

Dean’s eyes snapped open. His heart was thudding inside his chest, as he held his breath not knowing if it was real. 

He pulled back a few inches, staring at the angel. Searching his face for any sign to tell him that he had or hadn’t imagined it.

The angel’s face was hard, but his cheeks were covered in a blush. Eyes were wide, looking up at Dean through his eyelashes with anticipation. 

He didn’t know if he was more in shock from the kiss or the fact-

“Did you just… _Oh my god._ ” Dean’s voice raised in excitement. “You can-mmh“

A hand was pressed over his mouth. Castiel peered at him intensely through squinted eyes, almost dangerous. A fire lit, compressed into that gaze. Eyes that were so certain, so sure.

“Yes. Dean.” The angel whispered. “Please, I can trust you. Yes?”

Dean nodded his head, eyes wide. That voice was… odd. Fitting, but odd. Low, raspy from disuse. Castiel nodded, as if further relaxed and assured by the confirmation.

“Then please, you must promise me.” The angel urgently begged. “Do not tell anyone of this. Yes?”

Dean nodded his head again. Castiel slowly removed his hand covering Dean’s mouth.

“Oh my god!” Dean whispered, ardently. “I have so many questions to ask you! You can- Does anyone else know you can talk?”

“No.” The bitter tone did nothing to dissuade Dean.

“Why not?”

“Because the last time someone found out, they wanted to dissect me.” The angel’s voice grew thin, thrown into a coughing fit that shook his whole body. “But before he could tell anyone else, my brother-” 

A sharp series of raps came on the door. 

Castiel stilled instantly. Frozen.

The research assistant from before cracked the door open, peeking in. “Mr. Winchester, I have the papers Mr. Randell asked me to give to you.”

The angel’s eyes blew wide, pupils contracting to a pin prick. Staring at Dean with enough fear to give a horse an aneurysm. 

Dean gave the cherub the best reassuring smile he could, stroking his cheek. “It’s okay. Come ‘ere.” Dean tucks Castiel’s head against his chest, face pointed away from the door. Frowning a little when the angel wrapped his fingers around Dean’s wrist. Not pulling or pushing, but just holding it there.

“Sorry.” The RA winced, stepping through the cracked door and letting it fall shut behind him. “Did I scare him?”

“Maybe, yeah. He’s kind of skittish.” Dean alleged fondly, running a hand through the cherub’s hair, only a little disappointed when Castiel didn’t start up his serene, pacifying purrs. 

Turning back to the RA, Dean sees that the man has a rather large stack of pristine white paper. “What do ya got for me?”

“Uh.” The RA looks up, reciting off from memory while he keeps tally with one of his hands. “Release forms, transfer forms, sign the admission proposal. He said if you had time to go ahead and fill out the acceptance paperwork, but if you didn’t get to it then someone else would take care of it.”

The RA looked back down at Dean, gesturing expressively. “Oh! And it looks like Solarium is putting you up for everything. So, you’ll just have to read the housing rules, terms and agreements, stuff like that and you should be all set.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Is it okay if I get closer? Or should I just leave these here?”

Dean looked down at Castiel. He could only see the top of the angel’s head, not his face. Not knowing which the angel would prefer, Dean requested that the RA leave the papers on a table next to the door.

After the RA saw himself out, pausing to take another longing look at the hidden angel, Dean turned all of his attention back onto Castiel.

“Sorry about that.” Dean sympathized. _Doesn’t that door have a lock?_

“It’s not your fault.” The angel reasoned with a forced phlegmatic disposition.

“He really likes you. He was actually in here before, when you were asleep.”

Castiel blushed. “Sorry about that.” He apologized.

“For what? Falling asleep on me? I don’t mind. It’s like having my own living, personal heater.” Dean smiled. 

It was kind of weird for Dean, now knowing that Castiel could talk. Unsure if he should treat the angel differently. Less like a creature, more like a human. 

“It’s nice.” The cherub murmured quietly, a blush creeping onto his face. Eyes looking off to the side, away from where Dean’s could catch them.

“What is?”

“Sleeping with someone else. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. It’s quite comforting.”

A little flare of jealousy rose in Dean’s chest. “Yeah? Who did you sleep with before?” The tone of his voice was neutral, respectfully inquisitive. After all, it was only polite to ask. 

This dopey smile overtook Castiel’s face, lost in a haze of nostalgia. The look of which did nothing for the growing feeling inside of Dean. “My brother.”

Dean’s chest pulled taut. Guilt replaced jealousy. Of course. Of course, his brother.

“You have a brother.” Dean pondered out loud. _He said that. Before._

“Yes. He was…” The words trailed off as a musingly pleased smile curled onto Castiel’s face. “Ill-behaved.” The smile fell. A wistful melancholy permeated the air. 

“He protected me. Kept me safe.” A light cough followed the statement.

“From the other angels?” 

Castiel nodded. 

Angels are social creatures. They thrive best, if not only, when kept in at least pairs. Family units were strong, an important building block in the social structures. So, Castiel had had to be without anyone. To live surrounded by those who did not accept him into their group.

“What happened to him?” 

“I wish I knew without a doubt, but I am almost certain he is dead.” The low, dragging words were laced with remorse.

“Oh, Cas. I’m so sorry.” Dean’s heart gripped in empathy.

The angel shook his head. “It has long past.”

Yet tears still prickled in the cherub’s eyes, to which Dean could not stand. Dean held the angel closer, bringing him up to rest his head in the crook of his neck. Small sounds, sniffles, were made, trying to contain the noise, the tears.

Just because it hadn’t happened recently, didn’t mean that it didn’t still hurt. 

Jess, Sam’s girlfriend, had once told him that for every hurt there was a bucket of tears. At first, the tears spilled over easily, but as time goes on it gets harder and harder to tip the bucket over into tears.

Eventually it becomes so few and far between that it has been forgotten that there are any tears left, any sadness or feeling at all left. Yet, in times when it is unexpected or when everything becomes too much, there they are again. The tears that were never expected come.

Dean can practically feel the cherub trying to disappear against his skin, nuzzling in closer to him, pressing them as close as physically possible together. A nose tickles up his neck, making him shiver. The sounds of sniffing and sighing, breathing in Dean, as if he was redolent sacred attar.

“Do I smell good?” Dean teased. Though, the words lacked any malice. In fact, almost lacking in any jesting quality. For some reason, the action was both unexpectedly soothing and intimate. He finds himself slouching, unable to find the motivation or energy to sit up properly.

“Oh, yes.” The angel declared reverently. The warm breath flooding against Dean’s skin.

He shifts to bring the cherub in closer. In his endeavor, he skims across a feather. So light a touch, it may barely be recognized as so.

Dean stiffens.

“You kissed me.” It almost sounds like a question to his own ears.

“I did.” 

The lilted tone was so confidently matter-of-fact and nonchalant that it gave Dean pause. “You know what kisses mean to humans. Right?”

“I do.” Dean could feel the angel’s smile against his skin.

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?” The question was innocuous. Shy. Sheepish.

Dean’s mind was darting everywhere. Trying to make the connections, trying to piece everything together.

Thoughts shifted back to how he knew Castiel, how he interacted with him. Does anything change now? Does he treat Castiel different now?

He never had a doubt that the angel was intelligent, showing every sign of understanding Dean’s every word. It didn’t change that he knew that Cas needed someone, and that right now, Dean was that someone.

It didn’t change the fact that Dean might need the angel too. He hadn’t thought of Cas in that way, but the more he considered it, the more natural it felt. Inevitable. Ineluctable in the best of ways.

“Um,” He finally started. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

Eventually, the pile of paperwork and the pressure to get it done tore Dean away from the angel. Just for a moment, of course. 

Dean had so many questions that he wanted to ask the angel, but apparently not speaking for as long as Castiel did has weakened his ability to speak for extended periods of time. 

After coaxing the cherub into drinking some water, Dean had gathered the thick stack of paper and gotten to work. Castiel was curled up against his side, purring lowly.

He would say that the purring was distracting, because it was, but there was no way he would make the angel stop. The calming steady sound made it hard to focus on the mountain of paperwork, but made all his muscles feel lax and his head go blissfully empty.

No, not empty. It was that satisfying feeling of thinking about nothing, but without the vacancy. Thoughts were slowed to a halt. He just felt full. Not pressure. What was the word he wanted? Complete.

The release forms were easy enough, even with half a brain. Fill out Castiel’s information, what date he’ll be released, where he’ll be released to. Dean goes ahead and signs them, but they’ll need to be followed up on the day of.

Transfer forms were another easy one. At this point, the paperwork is already feeling mundane. It’s more of the same. Castiel’s info. Dean’s info. Dates. Who, what, where, when. All that great stuff.

Dean skimmed the admission proposal. Well, he started to, before he realized just what he had gotten himself into.

The admission proposal was an in-depth list of resources and objectives for the habitat, treatment, and recovery of Castiel. It wasn’t just suggestions for the angel either, but included frequent meetings with other behaviorists that Dean would be required to attend in order to brainstorm ideas and increase the probability that each individual angel was getting the most well thought out treatment plan.

It was kind of exhausting.

After reading through and signing that, Dean was more than happy to do the tedious and mundane work of filling out the acceptance paperwork. He knew he didn’t have to, but it was pretty quick and easy considering he didn’t have to really think about it.

Then, after his brain had had a break, he read through the housing agreement. Dean was unsure of what kind of layout it would be. Would he have a roommate? Common kitchen? Was he allowed to bring Castiel into his apartment?

What he did know was that he wasn’t allowed to have candles or any other animals, not even a fish. No guns or weapons of any kind. Plus, he would need to get a parking pass. It was paid for, but still, it was another step he had to take.

Dean sighed, rubbing his sore and burning eyes.

He needs to make some phone calls.

 

* * *

 

Dean calls up his apartment manager, letting them know about his situation. The manager agrees to put some paperwork in Dean’s mailbox, reminds him of the contract break fee, and they were all set.

While Dean was grateful that was over, the next call he wasn’t actually sure what he was going to say.

He needed to call Sam. 

Dean rubs his face. He’s not dreading it, but he’s not looking forward to it. They weren’t on ‘bad terms’, per se. But his younger brother did not think he called enough. Whatever. Sam barely called him, why should he call that often.

He knew that there was a chance Sam might not answer. He was a busy guy, after all. That was the only thing that gave Dean a way to convince himself to make the call.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And- _Damn it._

“Hey, Dean! Haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s up?” A perky voice that could not be mistaken for anyone other than Jess.

Dean quirked a smile. “Hey, Jess.” He liked her; she was good for Sam. “Is Sam there?”

She made an overly dramatic offended noise. “You didn’t call to talk to me?” Fake sniffling was followed by laughter. “Yeah. He’s right here.”

Dean hears the noise of the phone transferring. Although talking with Jess for even that moment made him calmer, his nerves spike once again.

“Hey, Dean! How are you doing?” Polite as ever, that one. He sounded happy, genuinely excited that his big brother had called.

“Hey, Sam. I’m doing good. How are you?” Dean replied with decidedly less gusto. Pleasantries were not his favorite. He didn’t want to beat around the bush, but there were still formalities.

“I’m good.”

“Good.” The silence hung in the air like a bad smell. “So, uh, guess what?” It was the best opener he could think of. He already knew that Sam knew he had a reason for calling, otherwise he wouldn’t call.

“What?”

“You know, that new job just I got? Well, they decided to transfer, uh, ‘my angel’ to a different sanctuary and they asked me to go with him.” When Sam didn’t answer right away, Dean added. “So, I have to move.” Pause. “And I said yes. So, yeah. I thought you might want to know.” He finished up lamely.

“Cool. So, do you need help moving?”

Dean hadn’t even thought about that. He didn’t want to bother Sam, but he sucked at packing. And Sam knew that.

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, Sammy. That would be great.” Then he reconsidered. “Are you sure, though? You don’t have to. It’s kind of a long drive for you and I know you’re busy.”

“Too bad. You already said yes and Jess heard you. I think she already getting ready to come raid your place.”

“She doesn’t even have a key!”

“It’s Jess.” Sam deadpanned. “She’ll find a way.”

_Amen to that. That woman had a heart of gold and a will of steel._

They both laugh.

“When do you have to be ready to go?”

Dean winced. This was one of the parts he was worried about. “We ship out Saturday night and we’ll get there by Monday mid-morning probably.” His face contorted in a grimace, already knowing of what Sam was going to say. “I know that’s fast, but I really like working with this angel. It’s a dream come true for me. For anyone really. I couldn’t say no.”

“Whoa, Dean. It’s okay. Just- wow, yeah. That’s a fast turnaround.” A sound comes in the background of the phone. “ _This Saturday._ ” Is whispered to someone who could only be Jess.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Where’s the new sanctuary?”

“It’s um, you know. Twenty hours out of Palo Alto. Eighteen from here.”

“Wow. That is quite the drive.”

It’s also further away from Sam and Jess. While his apartment was about an hour and a half out now, the distance made it seem worse. He would be that much further away.

“Yeah.” Dean rubbed his face. “You still up for it?” He wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was no. He hadn’t seen his brother in the flesh in quite some time.

“You bet your sorry ass, we are. We’re stilling coming for you.” The playfulness in his voice made Dean smirk.

He felt something release in him. A burden lifted. He felt lighter. Everything would be okay.

 

* * *

 

“Shhhhh. You need to stay still.” Dean murmured soothingly to the writhing angel.

He was wrist deep in feathers trying to change the bandages from Castiel episode, but the angel couldn’t stay still.

It was the blood feathers Castiel had ripped out that was the problem. Angels blood didn’t clot the same way mammals did, making it much easier for them to bleed out.

Now that Dean’s head was more clear, he understood why Castiel had to be tranq-ed. The creature had been in a state that it would be unwise to approach him, but the bleeding needed to be stopped.

They’d put in a few stitches. The bandages were mostly to keep the feathers from irritating the skin.

Castiel squirmed and whined as Dean tried to place the same bandage for the thousandth time.

“Oh. Screw it. We’ll put on a new one later. You need a bath first anyway.” Dean looked up at Castiel, and almost started snickering.

The petulant, do-we- _have_ -to expression on the angel’s face was comical.

“C’mon. It won’t be that bad.” He smiles, guiding the reluctant being over to the water.

Dean pauses. Turning back the to the angel latched onto his coat tail. Dean sighs, looking Castiel in the eye, pressing his lips together. 

He lightly trailing the backs of his fingers up and down the angel’s side, stepping in closer. Trying to make the world seem smaller around him, as he tries to ask the question delicately. 

“Castiel.”

A questioned hum comes with a quirk of the cherub’s head.

“Can you move your wings?” He winces as he asks the question.

“Not really.” The angel plays with Dean’s shirt in between two fingers.

“Why?” He hates to press, but if he could help…

“I don’t know.” His voice sounds so small. “I just- I remember a lot of needles. After they injected me, it was like nothing happened, but over the next few days, it got to where I couldn’t move them at all. I can a little bit now, but it _hurts_.

Castiel sighed. “They said it was supposed to fix stuff. ‘Cause the others kept challenging me. Well, they thought I was challenging them. Any time I moved they felt threatened. It was better when my brother was around.”

The meekness in Castiel’s voice was like a thread pulling through his skin. The grimace on the angel’s face was like the gods of bitter hurt and rage were fighting in Dean’s chest. The trembling in his hand make something in Dean click.

“Come here.” He pulled the amenable cherub into his arms, just holding him. “What are we going to do with you?” He whispered to himself.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, Cas. This has _never_ been your fault. I’m just- I’m just trying to figure out what to do. Never blame yourself for being hurt, for being in pain, or for anything. Anything you can think of you don’t have to be sorry for.” Dean paused. “Except eating my burger.”

Castiel looked sheepishly up at Dean before tucking his head away. Hiding his face against Dean’s neck, pressed against the warmth. Breathing in Dean.

Dean couldn’t help but notice, though, the angel didn’t say anything to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Washing of wings in next chapter! Anything you guys want to see during bathtime? Let me know in the comments and I’ll see what I can do for you! ;)
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. 
> 
> Have some stars to light your way: ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I tell someone something. It either goes one way or the other. So instead of one to two weeks, it was one to two days.
> 
> *super sarcastic* Oh, no. I bet you guys are sooo disappointed.
> 
> It's a little short, but kind of ridiculously adorable.
> 
> <3

When the water was warm enough, Dean stepped into the bath. He could feel his bones absorbing the heat. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, he turned his head over to the reluctant cherub.

“Come on. Get in.” Dean gently beckoned.

The tub was quite large. Big enough to fit six people. The reason the facility even had a bathtub was actually fairly straightforward. Big wings therefore big tub. 

Dean had heard of rescued angels that come in covered in oil or debris. It takes a large crew working on rotation to clean the wings. Dean had never cleaned a rescue’s wings. Well, not a rescued _angel’s_ wings. He had a few opportunities to volunteer in oil spill clean-up endeavors.

Depending on other injuries that would be aggravated by movement, some birds were kept in a temporary medically induced coma. This was more common for angels than birds though.

Castiel looked at the water with a grimace, eyes flicking to Dean’s. Rocking back and forth on apprehensive feet.

Dean waved the angel to his side, taking one of his hands. The cherub wasn’t looking at him, he watched the angel watch the water. 

“You know you need to get cleaned.” Dean gently spoke, rubbing a thumb across the back of Castiel’s hand.

The angel nodded, head bouncing in small bobs that shook his hair, licking his lips and swallowing.

“You don’t like it though.” He prompted.

Castiel shook his head, apparently not too keen on speaking.

“Is it because they hurt? Your wings?”

Castiel nodded before shrugging, a one-shouldered and noncommittal, before shuffling closer to Dean. Sitting down next to the man on the edge of the tub. Facing the opposite direction, feet on the floor and the tips of this wings dipped into the warm water. He shivered at the heat.

Wrapping an arm around the front of Dean, a hand resting on his waist. Pressing their sides together and he laid his cheek down on Dean’s shoulder. Holding their clasped hands in his lap.

“Okay.” Sensing that Castiel didn’t want to talk anymore, Dean sighed, squeezing the angel in a comforting embrace, and moved on. “Okay. Let’s get you clean.”

Dean grabbed the shower nozzle and switched it on, getting the angel’s wings sufficiently damp. Turning it off and hooking it back on the side of the tub, Dean grabbed a bottle of a special shampoo.

Getting a superfluous glob of it in his hands, he went to work. Making long drags through the plumage, creating suds. The wings soaked in so much water, each pass Dean made through the feathers the milky white pulviplumes and dirt flooded out.

“When was the last time you groomed yourself?” Dean asked slowly, cautiously, as he carded his fingers down the long feathers.

“…yesterday.” Came the lagged reply.

Dean suppressed an eye roll, “Before that?”

The angel just shrugged, leaning more of his weight against Dean.

“Okay,” Dean breathed, trying to work with what he had. “What happened yesterday, when you… groomed yourself?” _When you hurt yourself._

Castiel only turned into Dean further, letting out a tense whine.

“Alright,” Yes or no questions then, “Were you scared? Or sad?” The angel went stiff, but didn’t respond either way. “Were you lonely? Hmmm? Or maybe something else?”

Dean waited for a minute for the angel to respond, but got nothing. Turning back to his task, he rinsed off Castiel’s wing with the nozzle and got another large glob of soap in his hands. He had been working his way through the wing, a little deeper this time, for a few minutes when he heard the angel start to speak.

“Wing grooming is intimate.” The cherub mumbled into his skin. “Requires trust ‘cause wings are precious.”

He curved his wrist back, playing with the edges of his primaries, rubbing them nervously. Castiel was tired, grumpy even, but seemed to be trying rouse himself enough to say what he wanted to say.

“I had to remind myself… to not trust.” His eyes flicked to Dean’s. “To not be as naïve to… I found myself trapped in an ideation—“ Castiel cut himself off, shaking his head before rubbing his face against Dean’s arm, trying to soothe himself.

“I meant to just preen them, but I became so irate that I couldn’t help it.” He looked over his shoulder at the feathered appendages, face still pressed into Dean’s arm as he smirked wryly. “They’re quite frustrating.”

There was a dry humor in the angel’s voice. Understanding that his thinking was flawed with hindsight 20-20, but unable to change what was already done.

The cherub looked up at him, boring into Dean’s eyes with a pleading pull. Forcing his focus on the angel, all of his attention, the cynosure of every breath. Dean’s eyes stared with just as much intensity watching the angel slowly- wet his lips, biting them before continuing.

“You really aren’t going to leave?” He asked, cringing as he did, like he was ashamed to even ask.

Oh. It clicked for Dean now. _Castiel had a dream—no, a nightmare, about Dean leaving him._

The pang of guilt shouldn’t have even hit, but even the thought... It burned with the bitterness and weight of every instance he had let down someone before. Hadn’t been good enough before. Had broken too many promises before.

Dean may have promised Castiel, he may have promised himself, but that didn’t make him incapable of breaking it. He had broken too many promises for it not to be an option. More than anything, he didn’t want to break this. He wanted something in his life to remain whole, to remain intact. To not wake up one day and find it shattered on the floor.

Dean presses a chaste kiss to the angel’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He runs a hand through the angel’s hair, pressing him into the crook of his neck. Rubbing large circles on the angel’s back.

“Thank you.” The cherub breathed into his skin before nuzzling in further, inhaling deeply.

Castiel then pulled his face out of his favorite hiding place, prompting Dean's concern.

“Dean?” The angel murmured, refusing to make eye contact as a blush covered his cheeks.

“What is it?” He prompted, running a hand through Cas’ hair. He was rewarded with an undivided stare.

“Kiss?” The cherub tentatively implored. Whisper soft. As meek as he was intent.

That gaze, those _eyes_ , looking up through thick lashes with so much hope. Dean was grateful he didn’t even want to say no, because against that face, he wouldn’t be able to. A minute, quirked pull at his lips, eyes flicking down.

“Okay.” Dean granted. 

He looked up just in time to catch the smallest smile gracing Castiel’s lips. Just a hint of a stretch across them. But his eyes, Castiel’s eyes _beamed_ , in adoration, gratitude, sheer and pure joy. Dean was only able to enjoy the sight of them for a moment before the cherub moved, close enough into his space that he let his eyes slip closed. 

The angel brushed their noses together, letting out a cooing sigh as he did so. Dean felt his heart flutter. Breath picking up as every slight movement made his lips tingle in anticipation. 

Castiel hummed, pressing a peck against his cheek. Dean huffed in laughter, grin stretching wide. The angel pulled back slightly, whining questioningly. Dean just shook his head, still smiling as he brought a hand to cup the angel’s face and pressed a mirrored kiss against the cherub’s cheek.

When he pulled away, just far enough that he could meet Castiel’s eye, the angel’s gazed was fixed intently on his lips. A hand coming up to hover over where Dean had kissed him.

He quirked a smile, watching the angel watch him for a few moments. Until abruptly, the cherub flicked his eyes to Dean’s, catching them in a mesmerizing stare that made his heart skip a beat and the grin drop from his face.

Cas’ hand moved to curl around his neck, just barely brushing into the back of his hair. 

Castiel inched forward, just to slide his head away to where he started. He started again, only to abort the motion; eyes flicking between Dean and what he desired. The fingers on his neck started to rub and pet his hair nervously.

Dean rolled his lips between his teeth before letting them go. Slowly, he lessened the gap. Moving in until he could feel Castiel’s breath puffing against him. The quick, unsteady breaths that were so much like his own.

Their noses tapped together, Castiel taking the opportunity to rub them together again.

Dean heard a shaky inhale just before a light weight pressed against his lips. He sunk into it. Pushing ever-so-slightly closer. Leaning into to chaste kiss.

When the angel pulled back a fraction of an inch, Dean gripped his waist tighter but didn’t prevent him from pulling away.

There was only a moment's pause before Castiel was meeting him for the second time in an innocent, lingering kiss. 

This time the angel, after sighing into the kiss, pressed harder, moving his lips ever so slightly against Dean’s. The man, following Cas’ lead, tilted his head, parting his lips just a fraction. 

The arm curled around him lay heavy and lax; forgotten. His own hand rubbed large, slow circles on the angel’s cupped cheek.

After a moment more, they parted. Castiel’s breath was much heavier than his own, but the sound of which was drowned out by the purrs reverberating through the air. The cherub’s eyes still closed as he appeared to be enraptured in bliss.

Castiel sank against him, bumping their foreheads gently together. Breathing in each other, taking in each other’s presence. 

After a moment of rest and a hum, the angel began rubbing their faces together. Nuzzling their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. Dragging their cheeks against each other in long slow motions.

Eventually, the cherub stalled to a halt, still cheek to cheek. Simply holding Dean while Dean held him.

“ _Thank you._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you guys feel about raising the rating?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a douchenozzle. First post in over a year for this. 
> 
> Feel like this shouldn't matter, but I feel like it'll make my therapist proud of me. I'm a girl and I like girls. Boys too, but mostly girls. (I also like math. #unrelatable)

It was Saturday.

Castiel’s transfer day and Dean’s moving day. Well, the beginning of it. Dean inwardly groaned at the amount of time the process would take.

Dean had most of the morning to finish packing everything up. Everything was in his car and the apartment was as clean as it was going to get. 

He had just turned in his key to the building manager and was walking out to his car when he got a call. It was Sam.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, Dean. Jess and I are ready. We’re just meeting up at your workplace, right?”

“Yup. You have the address I gave you?”

“Yeah. See you there then.”

“Sounds good. See ya.”

Dean ended the call and drove off to the sanctuary. Sam and Jess had quite a bit further to drive to get to his place of work than he did. By the time they got there, everyone else might be ready to go too.

 

* * *

 

The sanctuary was pretty much empty. The least amount of people Dean had ever seen inside of its doors anyway.

The outside was another story. A large truck was being loaded with this and that. People with clipboards pointing at things and generally looking like a lot of bureaucratic nonsense. 

A desk was stationed just inside after flashing his ID at a man guarding the entrance.

“Name?” The man behind the desk had a military air to him.

“Uh, Dean.” He supplied. “Winchester.” He supplied after a short pause.

The man skimmed down a checklist and marked off his name. A packet was thrust in his direction.

“Here’s the schedule. Today’s driver is Garth Fitzgerald.” A scraggly looking man waves enthusiastically over at him. “Secondary handler is Jody Mills from Solarium, as per transport requirement.” Another friendly wave from a kind looking woman in her mid-forties.

“Everybody, this is Dean Winchester. Primary handler of our transport subject, Castiel.” 

Everybody turned out to be a lot of people. The actual transportation didn’t require that many people. It was getting Cas from his habitat to the truck that took so many people and procedures.

“Winchester. Mills. Report to the subject’s habitat. Have him prepped and in position on schedule.” A hard look between the two of them, seeming to linger longer on Dean before breaking off to do what must have been very important micromanaging.

“Hey, Dean. I’m Jody. It’s nice to meet you.” Jody offered out a handshake. Side satchel bouncing against her hip as she walked.

Dean accepted the act of comradery with a grin. “Likewise.”

“Where’re we goin’?” He took this moment to notice the hefty belt she wore; a tranq gun peeking out of its holster.

“Uh. This way.” Dean pointed. Realizing she probably didn’t know her way around, he took up the lead, guiding her through to Castiel’s habitat.

When they were out of earshot, Jody turned to him, “So, is that guy always that much of a hard ass.”

Dean let out a snort and a shrug, “Maybe. Haven’t spent too much time with him.”

They both shared a halfhearted laugh.

 

* * *

 

They had talked it through beforehand.

“I’ll be coming in with someone else. So, no jumping or moving too fast when we come in. There’ll be a little meet and greet. You don’t have to like them. They won’t be sticking around for very long.

“They’re going to sedate you, so you won’t remember most of the trip. I’ll actually be impressed if you remember any of it. Either way, I’ll be there the truck the entire time.”

Castiel nodded. “I trust you.”

Dean brushed his fingers through the angel’s hair, smiling. “Then, you’ll get in your crate, pass out, and there might be some weird beeps or bumps, but then you’ll just wake up when we get there.”

The transport crate was unsurprisingly small. Castiel couldn’t really stand up in it, but there was plenty of room to lie down. A thick blue pad covered the bottom and partway up the sides. A few pillows and Castiel’s favorite blankets were thrown in there too.

They had been ‘training’ with it. Which was laughable because Dean just asked Cas to get in. And he did, shrugging his shoulders and exploring the little box that he liked far more than he thought Dean knew. 

Then Dean asked if he would get in on Saturday, moving day. With a quick agreeance, Castiel laid down, running his fingers over the metal lattice openings. 

He wasn’t surprised when the angel announced that he was going to sleep in there that night.

 

* * *

 

So, when he arrived there with Jody, seeing Castiel all curled up inside the crate, cocooned in blankets was endearing as it was expected.

What he didn’t expect was for the angel to be trembling when the door slammed shut behind them.

“Cas?” Dean called, pausing just inside the entrance. 

A miserable whine rung out as the cherub shook harder.

Dean turned to Jody, “Hey, could you wait here a sec?”

“Yeah. No problem.” She met perceptively, but Dean was already turned and moving to the crate.

Crouching down next to the opening, “Cas?” He tested.

A mewl preceded the cherub untangling himself from his protective mountainous cocoon of blankets. Cas shot a surreptitious glance to Jody before Dean climbed in next to the angel. Warily the cherub crawled onto Dean, curling up in his lap.

Dean brought his hands around the angel as feeble whimpers were pressed into his neck.

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He rocked back and forth slightly, as much as he could with the weight on him. “What’s wrong? Hmm?”

He didn’t get a response, but he wasn’t expecting one. Not with Jody in the room.

“You nervous for our trip today?” The answer came as a discrete rubbing of Castiel’s cheek against his shirt. _Yes._

“Hey. Someone wants to meet you. Her name is Jody; you want to say hi?” A subtle pressing of fingers into his back. _No._

“Cas, we talked about this.” Dean whispered out of sight, rubbing the cherub’s neck.

The angel butted his head against Dean’s chest. Not an agreement, more of a ‘ _Fine. Only if I have to._ ’

Dean understood. Kind of. There were going to be things out of Castiel’s control and that was hard. Especially while not while being unable to communicate. Not openly. Not without consequences.

He nodded Jody over. Castiel snuck his hands under Dean’s over shirt, as Jody walked to them. The angel stared her down. Clinging to Dean while never taking his eyes off of the woman.

She took a knee a few feet away from them, hand resting near the tranq gun strapped to her belt.

“Hey there, little guy.” She cooed. “You think he’ll let me give him the shot or are we going plan B?”

The angel sucked in a deep breath, but rubbed his cheek against Dean in the slightest of movements.

“Let’s try and get it over with. Y’know, not to build up his stress.” Dean decided. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll go from there.”

Jody nodded before sitting down and whipping a few things out of her bag. 

“Cas, can you look at me?” Dean tried to guide the cherub’s gaze away from the new woman. A quick flick of the eyes was all he got.

Gloves snapped on, sedative in a re-capped needle, and an unopened alcohol wipe in hand, Jody asked if Castiel was ready.

“Where do you need?”

“Just his arm.”

Dean threaded Cas’ arm to press against the grating.

“I just need you to keep him as still as possible.” Jody cautioned, ripping open the alcohol wipe and swabbing the area. Castiel flinched at the cold feeling, but kept still otherwise.

“Okay. Yeah.” Dean replied, massaging the angel’s arm, trying to get the muscle to relax while keeping it securely against the metal.

It happened in a flash. The needle, in and out, the jolt of shock in Castiel’s face. A cotton swab and an adhesive bandage slapped over it all.

“Don’t let him eat that.” Jody commanded, referring to the bandage. She was already taking off her gloves and putting everything away. “Effect should kick in a few minutes. I’ll let the guys know the shot was successful.”

“Thanks.”

She saluted him nonchalantly, then stood and walked away with a deliberate and practiced leisure.

Castiel stares at where the needle had been. Focused, purposeful deep breaths push and pull his ribcage in and out. 

“It’s okay. Look at me.” Dean prompts. The cherub’s eyes are already becoming hazy. “Deep breaths okay?”

A distant nod and a few minutes later and the cherub succumbs to the sedative. The angel lies on the floor, eyes unfocused and half open.

After ten more minutes, Castiel is completely unconscious and unresponsive. It’s time to let the moving squad do their thing.

A small crane comes to pick up the cage. Thick straps are wrapped around the cage so it can be lifted. A short drive later, through the building and outside next to the truck, and the cage is loaded, strapped down, and they’re almost on their way.

The i’s are dotted and the t’s are crossed. Paperwork signed. Walkie-talkie’s are confirmed. The security cars are in the proper order. They are lined up and ready to go.

Dean shoots off a text to let Jess and Sam know that they are taking off. He sees the quick ‘K’ before he pockets his phone again.

Before he knows it, everyone is set and they’re ready to head off. 

Dean starts off in the back of the truck. Making sure Cas doesn’t throw up or have a bad reaction to the sedative. 

The engine turns over, the vibrations rattling through his body. It’s a familiar purr. He was trusting Sam to drive his car, while Jess was taking the truck. Sam was one of the few people he trusted to even be in his car.

He turned to the angel, laying in the crate, surrounded by pillows and a blanket or two. It looked more comfortable than Dean thought they would spring for. 

He’d have to help Cas along with the process. He knew the angel was more than nervous about the new space. His coworkers at the old sanctuary were biased against the angel. 

The new sanctuary was promising given their objective with Castiel. Healing.

That was really what Castiel needed right now. He needed to be loved. He needed to be safe. 

What Dean was most worried about was that Castiel would become too isolated in the new environment. Only being with Dean all the time, it wasn’t enough. Castiel needed more than just him. Dean needed more than just Cas.

It was a new place. And new places were always hard. They would never stop being hard. Maybe he should get a cat. Then Cas would have someone to interact with when Dean couldn’t be there.

A loud beep from his walkie-talkie came in. “ _This is Garth. Do you copy? Over._ ”

Dean fumbled with his walkie-talkie before finding the right button. “ _Yeah, Garth. I copy._ ”

“ _You ready to pop up front? Over._ ”

“ _Yeah. Go ahead and pull over._ ”

“ _I copy. Over and out._ ”

Dean sighed, laying his arms outstretched over bent knees. Feeling the truck slow and shift after a few minutes. 

The door unlocked from the outside with a loud, ringing, metallic clang.

Dean got up, taking one last look at the angel and hopping out.

“Hey there! Is he doin’ okay in there?” Garth asked, defiantly louder than necessary. 

“Yeah, he’s uh, he’s doing fine. No motion sickness or anything like that.” Dean replied, uncertain of really what to say.

“That’s good.” Garth nodded to himself, almost like he was considering that that would be an issue.

There were security cars on either side of them in the rest stop parking lot. They’d only been travel for a half hour, so no one needed to use the restroom. 

Dean and Garth both climbed into the front of the cab, Garth was still driving of course, as there was no way Dean had a CDL or even wanted to drive such a huge truck. Who was he kidding? Of course he wanted to drive it. It was a giant freaking truck. However, he wasn’t about to risk his angel’s safety for a little joy ride.

The engine reaves back up and they’re back on the highway. 

“So, where you from, man?” Garth asks him. 

“Uh, never really stayed in one place for too long. You know? Moved around a lot.” Dean side stepped the answer. It was true, but he didn’t want to elaborate further.

“That’s sweet. Seeing the world.” Garth got this glassy look in his eye, reminiscing. “Driving trucks, I go all over, man. This country is beautiful. All the hills and the plains.” He glanced at Dean, laughing, “Of course, you know all this. _I’ve been everywhere, man. I’ve been everywhere._ ” He sang.

“Yeah.” Dean half-smiled, just humoring the driver. “It’s beautiful.”

“So, you like your job?” The man asked.

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged, he didn’t really want to talk, still wrapped up in his thoughts. “How ‘bout you?” He tried to deflect the conversation back onto Garth, hoping he would end up rambling about himself and that Dean could space out.

“You have to open up, man.”

“What?” Dean snapped out of his thoughts.

“You have to open up. I can see it in you. Keeping all this stuff inside. You gotta talk it out. Maybe not with me, I get that, but still. If you keep it inside, it just gets worse. Harder to talk about. Listen, if you start talking about _whatever_ it is that you’re obviously going through, you’ll find that a lot of people can relate or that they won’t care as much as you thought they would.” Garth smiled at him. “The world’s a-changin’, my friend.”

Dean looked at him. Garth couldn’t look back of course, he was driving. He was right though. Dean had always been wound tight with his secrets, and now with Castiel’s secrets. He could talk to Cas, and… Cas could talk to him. Cas needed to talk about things. He was always careful around Dean, even as much as they’d grown closer, Cas didn’t tell him much.

Dean chuckled, thinking about how he had thought about how this new sanctuary would be good for Castiel. Maybe it would be good for him too.

The chuckle grew into a hearty laugh, a real laugh. Garth looked at him, a little taken aback, a little impressed.

“You’re right, dude. You. Are. Right.” He emphasized the words. He continued to be lost in his amusement of the irony of the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A question that I'm sure most of you are asking: When will the next post be?
> 
> I don't know. I am working on this and absolutely hated writing this chapter. Hence, not my best work. 
> 
> However! I am finishing this godforsaken thing. It will be completed and so will Demesne. I don't know when, but eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> labyrinthine-elysium.tumblr.com


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